Inheriting A Heart
by Doumindifislytherin
Summary: Draco Malfoy is currently the wealthiest Playboy in London. However, his parents believe his philandering ways are detrimental to the Malfoy reputation that they've tried so hard to uphold after the war. To Draco's chagrin, they are determined to see him married off to the first pureblooded witch they deem worthy of their name. Can he find someone else to marry in 3 months instead?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**Hello fellow fans! This isn't my first fanfiction ever, but I am new to this site. I wrote this story years ago so I thought it would be nice to share. Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you feel so inclined! Also- this story isn't beta-read so there may be some mistakes. **

Draco Malfoy was not happy. His pale brows slowly drew together as he stared at the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet _that October morning. The headline read '_Malfoy heir to wed?_' in huge bold letters on the front page. He didn't dare read the rest of Rita Skeeter's article; he knew it would be too painful just by looking at his unsmiling face in the picture on the front page. His parents thought that they could fix everything, but they only made things worse. In fact, none of this would have been a problem if they had just stayed out of his business. But his mother was far too nosey, and his father far too mistrustful to ever stay out of his relationships. So, they were spreading rumors, anonymously of course, that he was currently getting real cozy with the youngest Greengrass.

To understand why, one must know what it was like after the war had ended so long ago. The Malfoys were outcasts in the wizarding world, to say the least. His parents did all they could to earn back the trust and hearts of everyone and anyone who would listen, even going as far as to claim to be muggle sympathizers. Draco was indifferent to their plight simply because the war had done things to him that could never be undone. However, his parents thought that a reputation was everything. So he merely hung back in their shadow, until the time came when he stepped into his father's shoes, and became the richest pureblooded wizard in London; maybe even Britain.

Draco had easily adorned the lifestyle that accompanied being powerful and privileged, since he'd been living in it his whole life, and transitioned into the most desired bachelor in London with ease. He was a first-rate Casanova and there were endless amounts of witches waiting to catch his attention. However, his parents were determined to have him married off to the first respectable witch they found before he could sample what his late twenties could offer.

That's where the Greengrass' youngest daughter came in to the picture. And she was bloodthirsty in her pursuit of wedding the Malfoy heir (As was every other witch in London), so she teamed up with his parents to succeed in shackling him to her forever.

He didn't love her, nor think that he'd ever. But his mother assured him that an arranged marriage wasn't about love; it was a business partnership, nothing more. He could deal with a business partnership, because after all, he was a Malfoy. Yet something about being with one woman for the rest of his life distressed him. Probably something to do with the bit of heaven he'd tasted in the form of a woman's body.

Astoria was beautiful, there was no denying that, and Draco certainly could respect a woman who took charge and went after what she wanted, even if it meant scheming to achieve her goal. He could appreciate that —after all, he was a Slytherin—but for Astoria to succeed in marrying him, that meant he'd have to capitulate to her, and that just wasn't something his inflated ego was willing to do.

So, as he sat there in the dining hall of his ancestral Manor home, with his parents' gazes lingering on the front page of the _Daily Prophet _that he held up for them to see, he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"You'll pardon me if I'm overreacting, but this is my life you're ruining, and I can't help but feel as if this was all a bit _sudden_. I agreed to try things out with Astoria, not marry the bloody witch!" Draco screeched, very uncharacteristically. He'd always made sure he portrayed himself as stoic and impassive whenever possible, but under these circumstances he was finding it rather impossible to continue to be disinterested.

"Draco," his father began, in his normal detached, cold voice. "You're aware this was only to mollify your behavior as of late. We can't have our only son dallying around town with every other woman he sees. We had no other choice but to consider an arranged marriage earlier than we'd planned. If anything, you should blame yourself, not us."

Draco scoffed, "This is unbelievable! I won't do it. I absolutely won't marry her. I refuse." He folded his arms over his chest defiantly. His mother and father exchanged a knowing glance, then turned back to him.

"You know the consequences if you choose to disobey," his father warned. Draco almost shouted, 'then so be it! I don't want your bloody money anyhow', but thought better of it a moment later.

He threw his hands up in frustration, and the _Daily Prophet_ landed a foot away on the table beside him. "Denying me my rightful property isn't making me any more eager to wed, you know."

"Darling," his mother interjected in her most soothing voice. "You must understand that your behavior could be detrimental to the time and effort we put into repairing the family's name to society, and if you'd just marry her it would all go away."

Draco wasn't stupid by any means, he could see the truth to her words, but every fiber of his being screamed out in protest at the thought of marriage. He couldn't see an easy way out of this. His parents were too old-fashioned when it came to the family traditions. He'd have to get married, but he couldn't bring himself to see a future with Astoria. She was pureblooded, yes, but also not the smartest witch he'd ever met. She barely passed her O.W.L.s in Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. Another Slytherin set on living off their inheritances, he assumed, never taking their education seriously. Were they so daft to think he'd not throttle her the first chance he got?

Then an idea came to mind. His lip quirked, a smirk began to spread across his face at the thought, but he easily halted its progress. If only they'd go for it, well he had to try. "Mother, Father, can't we compromise?" He began a little too enthusiastically. "You want me to get married, but I don't want to marry Astoria, right?" His parents eyed him suspiciously, so he went on, "how about you give me, let's say, three months to find someone else worthy of the Malfoy name to marry instead of Astoria?" Draco watched their reactions carefully: his father furrowed his brow in thought, and his mother pursed her lips.

After what seemed like several minutes, and Draco was almost certain they were coming up with some sort of punishment for trying to get out of his duty, his father stood up from the dining table, his index finger pointed at Draco's chest. "You have three months; do you hear me? Ninety days, boy, or else you marry whom we pick, or forfeit your inheritance. Are we clear?," his father questioned sternly, while his mother's eyes widened at her husband.

He didn't even bother replying. He was so overjoyed, that he merely was able to nod his head in understanding before rushing from the dining room, feeling like a free man.

Narcissa Malfoy eyed her husband warily, "Do you honestly think he'll find such a replacement in three months?"

Lucius wore a presumptuous expression, one that his wife fully understood the meaning. "Of course not, Narcissa. That's the point, now isn't it?" Narcissa lifted a delicate brow in concernment. "He'll continue with his dalliances, no doubt, but we ultimately decide whom he marries, do we not?" Narcissa didn't bother answering, for her husband had said it all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile in Whitehall, at the Ministry of Magic, a certain bushy-haired witch entered the lift and jabbed the button marked level 2, all the while thinking of the huge pile of work on her desk that had developed practically overnight. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming on. When the welcoming witch signified that she had reached the department of Magical law Enforcement, she exited in a daze.

As she walked to her office, she failed to notice that several people attempted to greet her, however, she was too focused on fingering the parchment in her hands, making sure it was all in order, to pay them any attention. She'd gone over her work a dozen times this morning, but she couldn't begin to halt her habitual behavior that had her anxious to check again.

She'd barely gotten any sleep the past week, trying to make Kingsley's deadline for this fall's fundraiser, and she was feeling an alarming amount of stress. Hermione felt like any moment she'd pass out from exhaustion, so she'd started brewing remedies at home to help her stay awake. Therefore, she hadn't realized she'd upped her pace significantly until she found herself colliding with an immovable force.

Her papers scattered in different directions, but before she could hit the ground, strong but gentle hands instinctively grabbed her behind her elbow. Several curses were on the tip of her tongue, however they all but vanished upon seeing the familiar platinum blonde head of hair, and practiced sneer of the man holding onto her elbows. Instead she huffed loudly, to which he let her go unceremoniously, dropping like a sack of potatoes onto the gleaming marble floor.

There, looking at her wide-eyed face with disdain, was a tall, lean wizard, the likes of which she had seen many times previous, except at this moment, she could have sworn he looked even more gorgeous than she remembered. And even more arrogant.

"Don't you look where you're going, you clumsy fool?" he sneered, with a look of disgust marring his pointed face. Hermione felt dangerously close to the breaking point before, but when Draco Malfoy actually had the nerve to coil back as if he'd just touched something filthy, she literally saw red.

"How dare you- you, you vile arsehole?" Hermione stuttered at the pretentious former prince of Slytherin. She knew she sounded like she was fifteen again, it probably had something to do with being around Malfoy that did that to her, but she couldn't stop it.

To her complete surprise, he didn't retort, just merely roll his eyes, and sighed, as if exasperated. "No harm done?" He asked her as she righted herself once again. But before she could answer, he went on. "Yes, however, I'm in too good of a mood to spar with you today, Granger."

She wanted to smack him; she _should_ have smacked him for being so arrogant. Did he honestly think she _wanted_ to verbally spar with _him_? Did he think that she just walked around the Ministry waiting for him to appear in front of her office so she could waste time arguing with him? That was so like him, to be too selfish to consider she may have worked very hard on getting those papers into correct order, and the fact that they were now lying all over the hallway, just so she could have a go at him this morning, was crossing the line.

She diligently suppressed the urge to retrieve her wand from her coat pocket, and use an unforgivable on him. Instead, she ignored his remark hoping he'd just leave, and went to picking up her papers. But Malfoy simply watched her crawl around on all fours in front of him, looking decidedly amused, never making a move to assist her in any way. When she was finished, she immediately strode past him into her office, determined to get away from his insufferable mood.

However, it seemed Malfoy had a different plan. One that had to do with following her into the office to anger her further, it seemed. He even sat down in the chair across from her desk as if to stay a while. Seeing her frown, Malfoy smirked, delighted in his effect on the muggle-born witch.

"Obviously I didn't make things clear enough, Malfoy," She practically growled. "I'm not interested in your games right now."

Draco rolled his eyes again, and he swore he saw her bare her teeth out of the corner of his eye. "Look, I'm not exactly thrilled about being here either," he lazily drawled as he crossed his arms behind his head, making himself comfortable. "But being that you're the head of the social committee, I didn't have much of a choice, now did I?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" She asked immediately. Draco shifted in his seat to better face her. Her gaze instinctively traveled to his eyes, which were the color of thunderstorm clouds, and every bit as volatile.

He wore a black suit that reeked of wealth, and dragon-skin boots that were way too shiny to believe he'd simply had them polished that way. He'd grown into his pointed face, and lanky stature, to the extent that he now looked more like his father. Hermione began to wonder why she'd never noticed how incredibly handsome Draco Malfoy had become lately. She assumed that she knew him well enough to know how vile he could be, and no matter how handsome he looked up close, Hermione knew underneath that gorgeous façade, he was a snake ready to strike. But then again, she'd been rather busy lately, and she hadn't seen him this close in ages, it seemed. Around the Ministry, she saw him a few times from afar, but actually one-on-one, it had been years.

She nearly laughed at the way they'd fallen right back into their previous relationship as if it hadn't been nearly ten years since they'd attended Hogwarts. However, this Draco Malfoy sitting in her office was different.

His words brought her back from her reverie. "The Annual Fall Gala, Granger. Unfortunately, I need your permission to invite a friend."

Hermione knew he meant floozies not friend. Draco Malfoy had also become somewhat of a playboy lately, or so she'd heard. He had women kneeling at his feet wherever he went. Hermione could hardly see what was so great about Draco Bloody Malfoy anyways. He was pretentious, repugnant, and horrid. It must be his money, she thought to herself.

She sighed. "If it will get you out of my hair, then you can have your bloody permission. Invite whomever you want, Malfoy," she waved a hand nonchalantly; while picking through the stack of papers she'd collected off the floor, never looking at him. "Send me the RSVP's by tomorrow via owl, and I'll handle the rest."

She thought he'd merely leave her alone after receiving her obvious dismissal, but when he didn't move, she looked up from her stack of papers at his smirking face expectantly. His piercing eyes watched her from across the desk, and Hermione suddenly felt a cold chill travel down the back of her neck. Draco leaned forward towards her. "Granger, how long has it been? Ten years?" He purred in that silky voice she figured he'd saved for seducing witches.

Draco watched the former Gryffindor lift a delicate brow questioningly. Her nose, lightly dusted with the faintest of freckles, was scrunched up slightly, and her eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were narrowed in suspicion. Draco wondered if he'd ever seen anyone more lovely in his mere twenty-seven years of existence. No, he didn't think he had. But then again, he'd seen her many, many times before in the past, and it had never occurred to him that Granger was anything beyond repulsive. Not until this moment anyways.

But sitting there in her office, which was decorated quaintly, with a few pictures of her best friends here and there, he felt an odd sensation. One he didn't think he ever felt before. It was beyond words, beyond explanation, but it was there. Like the ever-elusive divinity, Granger was there but he'd never actually seen her until now. Perhaps it was because she didn't simply bat her eyelashes and giggle incessantly whenever his gaze fell upon her. In fact, he actually thoroughly enjoyed her quick tongue, even if it was borderline grating sometimes.

Draco suddenly felt the need to talk to her. If it was curiosity, or something more, he didn't know. "Married?" He asked her lightly, masking his interest.

She seemed to be having an internal struggle, but after a moment, she shook her head. "But I hear you're to be," she replied before she could stop herself.

Draco wondered if it was more of a question than a statement. The look on her face suggested the former more than the latter, so he leaned back against the chair, a smirk firmly planted on his aristocratic face. "Well, you heard wrong. You don't believe everything you hear in the Prophet, do you?"

She took a deep breath, probably to abstain from asking him any more questions. But Draco knew the former Gryffindor couldn't squelch her curiosity for long. But, almost immediately, she pretended to be disinterested again, and continued leafing through her parchment.

"Well, good for you then, Malfoy," she mumbled offhandedly.

Draco felt rather put out by her disinterested attitude, and deemed the conversation over. He stood from her desk, and without prelude, strode towards the door. But before he thoroughly exited, he turned back to have a last look at his former enemy, who was still ignoring him. Her hair was lighter than he remembered, still as unruly as ever, but somewhat tamed. Her thigh-length skirt showed off her tanned calves, and flawless skin. Draco knew if he didn't leave now, he'd say or do something he regretted. So he left the stuffy office (just as several memos flew above his head to enter) utterly perplexed, and determined to immediately seek a woman of questionable virtue to get whatever it was out of his system, and soon.

Hermione watched Draco as he left from the corner of her eye. After he did, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Was he doing this to upset her? Was this another one of his immature games? Why would he ask if she were married, and why, dear Merlin, why did he pause to check her out as he left? Oh yes, she definitely saw him. And why did her rogue heart beat faster as if in anticipation.

Without any answers to her questions, and her head rather fuzzy, she tried to get back to sorting through the mess Malfoy had left her with. She focused on the negative aspect of his appearance: He'd caused enough problems in the last five minutes than his sodding arse was worth.

Now she had to not only sort through the pile of parchment that was thoroughly out of order, but she had to make arrangements for extra guests. That meant she'd have to send several owls to various people, and that promised she'd be behind all day. So much for staying up all night to catch up, she thought bitterly. She cursed Draco Malfoy from her thoughts, and went straight to the buzzing memos hovering around her desk.

XXXXXXX

Draco returned home in a state of disarray. If anyone had told him he'd be having these mixed feelings about Hermione Mudblood Granger, he'd have them locked up in St. Mungos immediately, while he threw away the key. But she was different these days. Still stuck up as ever, but more grown up. She certainly looked grown up. Was ten years enough time to seemingly end the feud they'd been caught up in? If so, could he be entitled to a fresh beginning with her? Did he want a fresh start?

He knew it'd be hard. She despised him, and ten years might not be enough time for her to forget all the terrible things he'd done to her in the past. Especially the rather gruesome parts of his past that he still had nightmares about to this day.

But he knew Hermione. He knew she was forgiving in nature; maybe he could befriend her? Merlin knew he needed a friend. The only friends he had these days was Blaise and Theo, and one was only using him for his established connections to the Ministry heads, and the other was even more fucked up than he was. They didn't understand anything Draco had been through, but she would. She'd been thrown head first into the war years ago, just as he had, albeit on opposite sides.

Furthermore, Draco couldn't deny that being Hermione's friend would take a lot of effort, effort he didn't have time for since he was supposed to be finding a wife. _Wife_. Just thinking about that word made him sneer with disgust. But then almost immediately, he thought of Hermione, smiling at him with love and respect, while she wore a beautiful white gown made of the finest silk his father's money could afford, standing beside him at the altar while they promised each other a life of unwavering loyalty and shared desire.

He stopped midway up the stairs, clutching the wooden balustrade to the point that his knuckles were turning white with the lack of blood. Hermione Granger the wife of Draco Malfoy? He almost laughed out loud at the thought, or at least he would have had his lungs been cooperating. If he were being honest with himself, he'd admit he'd always found her attractive, and interesting. Even when he was supposed to hate her, supposed to kill her and her friends. Even when they were bickering non-stop, he still found her appealing. He summed it up to the fact that his whole life he'd been taught that Muggleborns were supposed to be stupid and ugly, and when he'd met her the first time, she'd thoroughly squashed eleven years of pureblood propaganda by being so very opposite.

Draco continued his slow trudge up the stairs to his chambers, lost in memories long since repressed. Thoughts of Hermione in potions class, a look of utter concentration on her face; a frightening determination that he'd always admired, and sometimes, envied. Thoughts of her in the library by herself, engrossed in a book, while the other students had long since vanished for dinner. Memories of watching her across the Great Hall, smiling at something Potter had said while the Weasel stuffed his face with pastries. And finally, the memory of how much it rattled him when Ron had cheated on her two years ago. He remembered all too well the look of total loss and heartbreak on her face whenever she thought no one was looking while she waited for a lift at the Ministry, and it made Draco envision himself wringing Ron's sodding neck.

When Draco was finally at his bedroom door, it hit him. The full impact of his conclusion had him literally choking for air. He wanted Hermione Granger. He'd always wanted her, and more than just a friend. As he sucked in a few deep calming breaths, he knew for sure he'd have her. If one thing was for certain, Draco Malfoy always got what he wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione didn't hear from Malfoy again for days. Not that it was odd not to hear from him, but she thought he'd have owled the RSVPs by now, which he hadn't. She summed it up to women problems, and went about her usual business of overseeing the Fall Gala, which was tomorrow.

Every year the Ministry held a fundraiser, which was the biggest event in of the year in wizarding Britain for the last seven years. If you weren't invited, chances are you weren't important, or rich. It was more of a networking seminar, where people came to connect with future bosses, or politicians. Mostly it's a time when the Ministry can get new and shiny things out of rich pompous jerks like Malfoy. That's of course why he was invited in the first place.

But Hermione had a feeling he wasn't just attending for business purposes, but simply to continue in his father's footsteps on upholding their reputation, which was otherwise spotted, by paying off anyone who'd accept his bribes. In addition to rubbing elbows with Ministry officals to keep up appearances, he also had a thing for being in the spotlight lately, it seemed. Hermione knew his parents hated the way he acted. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, to somehow get back at his father for pressuring him to be a Death Eater at sixteen years old? It was anyone's guess, really, because hardly anyone talked about it.

Her thoughts drifted back to a time when she almost felt sorry for Draco Malfoy. But she also knew he had chosen a side, and that was enough to anger her all over again. But should he be held responsible for the things his father had done? No, she didn't think it was fair to blame Draco for the way he acted. After all, anyone would have turned out the same way if they were brought up by Lucius Malfoy.

Now there was a man not worthy of remorse. He should be in Azkaban right now. Instead he had somehow wriggled his way out of jail, and instead was slapped on the wrist and given 6 months' probation and house arrest. Which, Hermione assumed, was like being trapped in the Beverly Wilshire for 6 months. Hardly a punishment.

Draco was tried of course. The Wizengamot had determined him to have been unwillingly coerced into doing Dark Magic, and therefore free of any guilt. He returned to society along with his mother, unblemished. However, the media had a field day with his father. Everyone avoided the Malfoys whenever possible, Hermione included, and they began to lose the power they had once held over society. No longer did society shake in their proverbial boots whenever a Malfoy darkened their doorsteps.

She found herself thinking about Malfoy a lot more than usual lately. So she threw herself into the Gala preparations instead, and was soon done with her portion of the work. After she was satisfied that the rest of the social committee could finished up without her, she headed to Diagon Alley to pick up a gown to wear to the Gala. Ginny was to meet her there later for lunch, and probably scold her on waiting until the last minute to purchase a gown.

As she walked down Charing Cross Road, she turned her coat collar up against the harsh wind that threatened to nip at her ears, and hurried into The Leaky Cauldron.

It was packed full of wizards and witches, and Hermione had to squeeze herself through the crowd to get to the back. She noticed every other table was speaking about the Gala tomorrow. It seems everyone was getting excited with it less than twenty-four hours away. It was sort of like a muggle award ceremony where celebrities were all invited to the same place.

Once she was out the back, she walked along the cobbled path to the brick wall, which covered Diagon Alley, and tapped the appropriate bricks with her wand.

The wall disappeared to reveal the center of wizarding London to her. Many people bustled about, all wrapped in heavy robes because of the chill, carrying parcels, and shopping bags. She hurried down the alley towards her favorite boutique.

Once she had her dress picked out, and it was promised to be delivered tomorrow, she walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Several people waved to her, in which she nodded her head in greeting. Some she recognized, and some she figured merely recognized her. She was used to all the attention after the war ended, being Harry's best friend and all. It wasn't nearly as bad these days. It seemed time had a way of darkening even the brightest of memories.

When Hermione was finally back through the wall, and the Leaky Cauldron was in sight, she hurried her pace to get out of the chilly weather, but paused upon spotting a familiar head of blonde hair to her right. It was Draco Malfoy again, but this time she hadn't run into him. It was too late to feign ignorance, for he had already spotted her and was casually meandering towards her with an odd look on his face. It was useless to try and read him, for he was a mystery through and through. 

Several thoughts went through her head at once: The first one being the way his robes billowed behind him, with an air of aloofness, made her think immediately of his father again, but she could also see a bit of his mother too in his bone structure. The second thought was of how relaxed his face was made him seem almost _human_. And the third, which was the vaguest, was of his RSVPs for the Gala.

Before Hermione could voice any of these thoughts, Draco had beat her to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and was holding open the door for her, glancing side to side as if to make sure no one was watching. That tiny gesture had her gawking at him. She didn't know what to do. Alarm bells were going off in her head, and she worried he was going to slam the door in her face while she tried to walk through it, or hex her as soon as she turned around. She mentally berated herself for thinking such thoughts. They certainly weren't in Hogwarts anymore.

Just as his face was turning into an impatient scowl, she rushed through the open door, hoping to end the awkward encounter at that. This was usually how their confrontations went down. She'd pretend she didn't see him, and he'd pretend he didn't know her. That was rather how she liked to keep it. But after the incident in her office earlier that week, she didn't know where they stood.

Hermione didn't bother looking back, and rushed her way through the packed pub to the bar up front, where she'd planned to wait for Ginny, nearly trampling a young boy holding his mother's hand in the aisle. She dully noted the boy's mother glaring at her as she darted looks over her shoulder.

Once she sat down, Hannah Abbott quickly came over to greet her, oblivious to Hermione's demeanor. "Hermione, how have you been?" Her old Hogwarts acquaintance asked cheerily.

"I've been good, and yourself? Neville?" Hermione questioned lightly as she unwound her scarf and unbutton her coat, darting glances over her shoulder nervously. Neville had since taken a job as Herbology professor at Hogwarts, this was currently his first year, and knowing Neville he was probably overwhelmed. "The kids driving him mad yet?" Hermione continued.

Hannah smiled, "No, he's having a marvelous time, just wrote me this morning." She brandished a folded piece of parchment as evidence.

"That's good to hear," Hermione replied sincerely. But before Hannah could reply, a disdainful voice interrupted.

"My, my, the help here is getting worse than I remember," came Draco's contemptuous insult. Hermione turned to scowl at the wizard with an over exaggerated self-opinion, as Hannah looked at him expectantly. "Firewhiskey." He ordered without turning to look at either of them.

Hermione gave Hannah an apologetic look. She took out a glass and poured some firewhiskey for Malfoy. "Malfoy, aren't there any pubs in Knockturn Alley you can encroach upon?" She wondered, her voice dripping with annoyance.

Draco was decidedly enjoying Hermione's jabs. In Hogwarts he'd probably have asked Voldemort to duel before enjoying anything to do with Hermione know-it-all Granger. But these days, the insults weren't meant to hurt. It was more or less a habit neither could break. If he weren't careful, one would think he was flirting with her. Was he flirting? His mind silently wondered. No, he'd followed her through Diagon Alley to give her the RSVPs, nothing more.

Draco was meant to meet a woman his mother had set up for him shortly, but seeing Granger rushing down the cobbled path, her hair whipping wildly across her pink tinted cheeks in a sea of people, made him anxious to talk to her again. He felt it his duty to shake her up, if only to ease the uncomfortable feelings he got wherever the former Gryffindor was concerned. And the past few days have been hell trying to get her out of his mind. He had to put his wife search on hold (he wasn't really searching anyways), choosing instead to get snockered at an all wizard club his father's friend from Berlin owned in SoHo two nights ago, just so he could envision Hermione was the one in bed instead of the annoying blonde witch he had left with.

"Very funny, Granger. However, I'm here on business, if you must know," Draco replied. Dirty-dealings, she assumed. These days, it was anyone's guess what sort of 'business' Malfoy spoke of. Merlin knew he didn't have a real job, unless one counted sleeping around, or sneering as a career. She wished he'd just leave her alone. Because seeing Malfoy in this close of proximity twice in one week was disturbing her thoughts.

He drained the glass of firewhiskey in one shot, and unbuttoned his coat. He then reached into the breast pocket, and retrieved a piece of parchment. "I was going to owl this, but being that you're here, I may as well just give it to you," he said while extending the parchment towards Hermione. His tone insisted this was a coincidence, but she dimly wondered if he had been following her all along.

At first, she merely stared at the parchment he held out to her, but then her mind snapped to attention when she recognized them as RSVPs. A part of her was angered at his gesture. She knew he'd done this on purpose. Waiting until the day before the Gala to offer his RSVPs was so like him. However, Hermione was much cleverer than that. She'd already anticipated this, and was done with the necessary planning for his guests-or _guest,_ her brain offered as she looked at the single envelope in her hands.

What surprised her was that there was only _one_. There was no doubt that her current suspicious expression gave away her thoughts on the number of guests he'd usually arrive with to Ministry functions. Hermione knew he knew she'd see it anyways, so did she dare open it here? No, not with him sitting here. She'd open it later, if only to appear disinterested in front of him. She stuffed the envelope into her coat pocket, and went back to trying to ignore him, hoping he'd take a hint.

Hermione looked towards the entrance hoping to see Ginny come through the door, but it was barely time for their lunch, she'd be at least ten more minutes. So Hermione prayed Malfoy's 'business' to be brief, so he would go away without her having to be rude.

Draco cleared his throat, and held up the empty glass to Hannah, who walked over to pour him another glass. "So, who are you going with to the Gala?" He wondered aloud, to which Hannah frowned at the conversation she'd walked into. She supposed it was rather unusual that Malfoy was chatting her up in a public place.

"Going with?" She asked him apprehensively. Did he mean a date? She almost felt her body steeling itself for an attack of some sort, but it never came. She eyed him as he looked into her eyes, and almost got the idea that he was simply doing this on purpose. To rattle her, throw her for a loop. But then, she vaguely wondered if their relationship (if one could call their mutual dislike a relationship) had actually changed this past week, for the better?

"As your date," he voiced her thoughts.

"As the head of the Social Committee, I don't have the luxury of a date," Hermione explained stiffly. He almost thought a bit regretfully too.

"That's too bad. As it just so happens, I'll be going alone too," he admitted, taking a casual sip of his drink. His eyes never leaving hers as he watched her head tilt a bit in confusion and make a gesture towards the envelope in her coat pocket. "That's just for Blaise," he waved a hand nonchalantly. "He wants an in with some Ministry officials-it's a long story—anyways, he's using my influence to get in, hence why I asked for permission last minute," he explained. _Am I rambling?_ He thought frowning. Why couldn't he shut up? He never was this out of sorts, even when an angry Voldemort was breathing down his neck.

Hermione didn't question if he was telling her the truth or not. Since she held the power to release invitations, she'd know. Not just anyone can come to the fundraiser, and she had sole responsibility of handling the guest lists. But Blaise Zambini obviously wasn't a floozy; she wondered why he would go alone to the biggest event of the season? It didn't seem to make sense.

If anything, Draco Malfoy lived for things like this. He lived to be in a room full of people in power to manipulate. She thought back to the previous Galas that Malfoy had attended. He'd always come with some witch that looked to be the biggest gold-digger she'd ever seen; perfectly manicured, and as snotty in disposition as breeding. Draco loved boozing at the open bar and going home with some Ministry secretary, or worse, waitress. But all those times, he'd had a date. Maybe they didn't end up leaving with him, but they sure had arrived with that intention.

She didn't dare voice her opinion on Malfoy's dating life, so she merely nodded her head in understanding, and continued looking towards the entrance hoping Ginny would appear. How had Draco changed this quickly? Unless the war had teamed up with his parents and the media to ruin the last bit of sanity he had left, it didn't make sense to her. Malfoy would never have a casual conversation with any Muggle-born person in a public place, let alone hint at going to the Gala with one. If that was in fact where he was going with this conversation. Her heart sped up at the thought of going home with Malfoy that night, and experiencing what him, and him alone, could bring her. What pleasures he'd known in the past working together to share a night of lust-filled oblivion.

Before her betraying hormones could give her away, Draco had said something that she didn't hear to bring her back to reality. "Pardon?" She asked, while looking up at Malfoy's cool expression. He face felt ten degrees hotter, and she prayed Malfoy didn't notice her blush.

"I guess I'll see you there," he responded. Then he put down a few galleons on the counter, while buttoning up his coat. Hermione watched, as he got ready to leave. "Granger," he nodded, and quickly strode towards the exit, while Hermione followed with her eyes, all the while wondering what had gotten into him.

Of course, that's when Ginny walked through the door. Malfoy didn't even look at her, but Ginny noticed that he was there, and scrunched up her nose in disgust as she walked past. Soon after, she spotted Hermione waving from the bar, and all thoughts about Malfoy were forgotten. Ginny hurried over, and hugged her tightly.

"So good to see you, Mione!" She practically sang.

Hermione couldn't help but forget all about Malfoy as her best girlfriend used her nickname and enveloped her in a warm hug. She missed her friends. It was beginning to become a rare occasion when they'd all see each other lately. She knew it had something to do with her ex, Ron. They'd been dating for a while on and off, but ended abruptly nearly two years ago when she'd caught him with Lavender Brown in their bed. She silently thanked Merlin, and whatever deity she hadn't married him as she had planned. But she couldn't come to terms that he had done that to her. It wasn't like him to hurt her so. But he had all the same.

Hermione tried as hard as she could to forget about that, but every time she saw Ginny, or her other best friend Harry, she'd remember the all too painful memory all over again: Ron hovering over Lavender's naked upper body writhing, her blonde hair was tousled as she moaned almost too enthusiastically. So, naturally it became painful to see Ron's sister too, at first. Then they just sort of fell apart slowly. Even worse was the fact that she worked in the same department as Ron. So she still had to see him almost every day, unfortunately. She'd glare in his direction, and he'd high tail it away from her.

"It's so good to see you too!" Hermione replied, as Ginny took off her coat, and sat down at the bar beside her, taking Malfoy's place.

"Was that Malfoy I saw leaving a moment ago?" Ginny wondered. Hermione knew this would come up eventually, being that Ginny was a sucker for gossip, and seeing Malfoy always spurred her on. Ginny didn't really like Malfoy, but she didn't loathe him like before. Time could heal animosity as well, it seemed. Malfoy was a magnet for publicity, and Ginny probably knew more about his personal life than most people.

"Yeah, he was dropping off those RSVPs I mentioned earlier," Hermione answered casually. Ginny sharply turned her head towards her, suddenly very interested.

"He met you here?" She questioned, and Hermione could have sworn she saw a twinkle in her eye to rival Dumbledore.

"Not like that, we just happened to run into each other, that's all," Hermione assured her best friend.

"Probably planning an orgy for after the Gala," Ginny remarked. To which Hermione nearly spit out her butterbeer. "You saw how many women he took home two years ago, last minute invitations? Please, Hermione, you know how he is!" Ginny insisted.

Hermione decided to take out the invitation he'd given her, wondering if he was telling the truth about Blaise. But before Hermione could open it, Ginny snatched it from her hand, and was tearing it open momentarily. After she'd read the letter in her hand, she turned back to Hermione with a baffled look on her face. When Hermione had the RSVP back, she read it too. "Blaise Zambini?" Ginny questioned.

"He says he was invited for networking purposes," Hermione explained.

"Networking, my arse," Ginny replied. "Blaise Zambini is probably the second biggest known rake in London, under Malfoy. I'm sure he wanted to share a little bit of what Malfoy enjoyed at the Fall Gala last year."

Hermione's thoughts drifted to back to her most recent Gala memories. She hadn't seen Malfoy the whole time, since she was busy entertaining and assuring everything went as planned. Besides, she tended to avoid Malfoy whenever possible, especially in public. The next thing she knew, there was a disturbance at the open bar, and she went straight there to find Malfoy snogging the French bartender she'd hired, and learned she'd decided to leave with him whispering French nothings to each other. That left Hermione there to clean up his mess yet again. She'd poured firewhiskey and butterbeer, and all sorts of other liquored drink all night. Some how she didn't see Malfoy changing that much in one year.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "there's no way I'm ending up playing bartender stand-in again this year. I'm going to make sure he doesn't leave my sight, that way he can't dally with the waitresses again."

Ginny laughed at her, "Don't get too close. I may dislike Malfoy as much as the next person, but I have to admit he can be charming when he wants to be. You don't want to end up being the one to go home with him instead of that bartender. Listening to his silky voice pour out perfect French, swooning when he rakes his hands through your hair. Or perhaps you would?" Ginny wiggled her eyebrows mockingly.

Hermione shook her head, appalled. "Absolutely not!" To which her best girlfriend laughed even harder. It seemed as if Ginny had put a lot of thought into this scenario.

"Don't deny that Malfoy is a hunk; a bit conceited for my taste, but dashing as ever. Besides, that man could get a nun to wonder what's under those finely pressed trousers! He must have made a deal with the devil to be that gorgeous," Ginny unabashedly replied. Hermione just stared at her, jaw agape. "Not that I'd ever, you know, I love Harry more than anything, but I still have eyes."

"Well, speak for yourself, Gin, I happen to dislike Malfoy in the deepest sort of way. I'd never touch him, even if he was the last man on earth," Hermione pledged. Ginny simply smirked at her, unconvinced. "He's vile, and thinks he walks on water, and how could anyone forget the atrocities he's done in the past."

"Hermione, it's none of my business, but when was the last time you got laid? Please don't say my brother!" Ginny giggled. Hermione playfully swatted her shoulder in mock outrage. "Wow, it's worse than I thought! Two years?" She looked horrified.

"No! Not two years," Hermione defended, turning scarlet. "Like eighteen months, tops."

Ginny looked stunned for a moment. She could see Ginny doing the math in her head. "Hermione, I do not recommend you go anywhere near Draco Malfoy. He'll have you begging for it before you know what's happened." Hermione shook her head, disconcerted. No, Ginny was wrong, she'd never fall for Malfoy's tricks, she knew the real him underneath the façade. Besides, she prided herself on not being like every other unmarried woman her age. All of them were chasing men like they were going out of style. Instead, she put her efforts into her work and magical abilities. 

Ginny thankfully dropped the Malfoy subject, and they left the pub after chatting with Hannah for a while, discussing what they were wearing to the Gala, and then finally eating lunch. Ginny decided they go back to her house to discuss plans on getting ready for tomorrow night together. Once they had agreed to meet there at three in the afternoon tomorrow, Hermione reluctantly departed around dinnertime, with promise to see her best girlfriend again soon.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Draco had tried to pretend he didn't hear the knocking on the drawing room door, but his mother would have just entered anyways if he hadn''t called for her to come in. He was seated beside the fire, sipping his firewhiskey from a crystal tumbler, when his mother waltzed in and sat down beside him. She stared at his shadowy silhouette for a moment before she started sniffing and clearing her throat to get his attention.

"Yes, mother?" Draco asked impatiently. She appeared ignorant of his tone as if he merely asked about the weather.

"How did it go today with Prudence Burke?" She asked hopefully.

Draco inwardly groaned. It's not that he was surprised that his mother was asking about the young witch she had set him up with earlier today, but the fact that she turned out to be a total slag. He wasn't being very nice to her, rude even, and she'd felt the need to rub his crotch under the table. He wouldn't be complaining if it wasn't for the fact that she wasn't being particularly easy on him either, it felt like she was scrubbing a stain out of his trousers, not very enjoyable, indeed. "She wasn't my type," Draco replied.

His mother made an impatient sigh, "And what exactly is that?" 

"I don't know, mother. I'll tell you when I find out," he shrugged, and took a long drink from his tumbler.

She wasn't satisfied, "Are you even looking, Draco?" She asked.

"Yes, of course I'm looking," he lied. He had been more interested in other things lately. Finding a wife had been put on the back burner for now. He wasn't in any hurry, and he figured that it wouldn't be very hard seeing as how there were plenty woman applying for the position. He'd let a few months go by before he got serious about this.

"Fine. Now about the Gala tomorrow, please tell me you aren't planning on taking home any of the hired help." Draco rolled his eyes, and thanked Merlin it was dark because his mother hadn't seen him do it.

"You know, I hadn't actually planned on going home with Angelica last year, she simply made an offer I couldn't refuse." Draco hadn't forgotten last year's Gala, when the beautiful French bartender had grabbed his tie and pulled him closer so she could whisper the things she wanted to do to him in perfect French. He was fluent in the language, luckily, or else he'd have simply missed it completely.

"Your father and I think it's best if you went alone and made it clear you're grieving about your recent broken engagement," Narcissa coolly replied. It was clear she was upset about the so-called 'offer' he'd mentioned a moment ago, and felt obligated to ignore it. "And if anyone asks, you're in the process of working things out with Astoria."

"Of course, mother. Whatever you think is best." If his mother was aware of the sarcasm in his voice, she didn't mention it. She simply stood from the chair, and left the drawing room without a backwards glance. He poured himself another glass of firewhiskey, and continued his pondering his afternoon run-in with Granger. He'd almost asked her to go with him. He didn't know what he was thinking. He tried to banish her from his thoughts, and focus instead on the Gala tomorrow, and how he could get her to go home with him. _Wishful thinking,_ his mind chided. Still, he had to try.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day arrived quicker than Hermione wished. She slept in, being that it was a Saturday, and skipped breakfast all together, too nervous to eat. She cleaned her house most of the day (anxiety), then did some paperwork, read the prophet, and then drank tea to calm her nerves. She had a few owls come with last minute problems, but they weren't disastrous, so Hermione easily took care of them. Her gown also arrived with plenty of time to spare. So then why couldn't she shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen? It felt exactly the same as wearing the cursed locket had felt.

When it was time to go to Ginny's house, she flooed right over, and Ginny was waiting for her beside the fire. Hermione lightly dusted off the ash that had landed on her dress she was carrying, and then hugged Ginny, and also Harry when he came into the sitting room a moment later.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you," Harry said. "I bet you need a drink." Seeing Hermione's face, Harry immediately summoned the bottle of firewhiskey, and poured her a small bit before she could argue.

"You know how I get," Hermione nodded. "So stressful, putting together a Ministry Gala. If I'd have known that, I'd have never volunteered to be on the social committee." Harry nodded in understanding, and also concern. Everyone knew she was the type of person to smile in the face of extra work, and laugh at anyone who doubted she could handle it. But those closest to her knew that she sometimes went a bit overboard, and they worried she'd finally lose her last shred of sanity one day if she didn't loosen up sometimes.

"Everything will go fine, as always. You shouldn't worry yourself. The hard part is over, now it's just time to relax and enjoy the party," Harry urged. Hermione nodded, but everyone in the room knew she wouldn't simply relax until this night was good and over.

"Let's get started," Ginny suggested after Harry handed her the firewhiskey. "That way we're not rushing," Ginny explained when Harry gave her a sidelong look. Hermione agreed, and returned Harry's small smile as she left the room with Ginny, thinking how easily Harry made her feel young again.

Harry was somewhat of an important person these days. Which was to be expected when you single-handedly vanquished the evilest Dark Wizard of the century while going through puberty. Hermione longed for the days when they were young and happily content on just doing normal school children things. But also, she longed for the Golden Trio to be back together. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit she sometimes missed Ron very much.

Two _hours_ later—much to Hermione's dismay-Ginny was finally done straightening Hermione's hair, as was the fashion. It looked glossy and healthy, and very long, instead of frizzy and straggly. Ginny's hair always looked this way, and Hermione always thought it was just good genes, but after she'd looked at herself in the mirror, she noted just how talented Ginny was at hair.

Her makeup was subtle on her eyes, with bright red lipstick to accent her dark shimmering dress. Hermione had protested the lipstick at first, saying how it made her feel uncomfortable, but Ginny insisted, and she never wanted to disappoint her. She then dusted a little bronzer to her cheeks, to make them look sun-kissed, and then dabbed a bit of Ginny's perfume to her neck and wrists to finish off the ensemble.

Then they made their way downstairs to meet Harry, already dressed in his dress robes, who looked at them both wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape. "You girls look absolutely stunning," he remarked with a huge grin. They both smiled at him, and Ginny grabbed his hands to which he kissed the tops softly. Hermione looked away from the display of affection between her best friends, suddenly envious. She hated to watch couples happy together. It reminded her, all too painfully, that she was almost thirty, and still alone.

Ginny caught the look in her eyes after a moment, and decided it was time to go. She took Hermione's hand, and Harry's in the other, and they apparated to Whitehall, to floo into the Ministry.

The Fall Gala was to be held in the Ministry's Atrium, which had been transformed into a sort of grand ballroom for the night. It was scattered with large round tables decorated with purple orchids, and sparkling crystal. There was a small dance floor transfigured right in the middle of where the large fountain had been, since the Fall Gala was first and foremost a party (Hence the large amounts of liquor). The floo's were changed to only allow people with an invitation, and their dates, but they could floo anywhere they wished after they entered.

After Harry, Ginny and Hermione had stepped out of the floo, they walked to the long table at the front, which sat the Minister, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, the Advisor to the Minister, and all his assistants. It looked very much like a hive of bees; people swarming all over them the moment they had walked in. She waved at the wizard who worked in the office beside her, and also to her former Potions Professor Slughorn, who rushed over to speak with Harry. Dean Thomas came straight over to say hello to each of them. Hermione was bombarded by familiar people, and started to relax a bit.

Kingsley Shacklebolt also greeted Harry, Hermione, and Ginny as they walked past the front table. Harry paused to talk to him, while Ginny and Hermione continued to their seats at the other side. Hermione suddenly regretted the backless, floor-length gown she'd decided on, simply because of how exposed she felt. People were watching her at every turn she made, with the same look on their faces. As if Hermione Granger had finally lost her mind.

"Ginny, they're all staring," Hermione whispered to her redheaded friend. Ginny smiled back after she took a peek around them.

"You look gorgeous tonight, don't worry too much. They're either jealous, or extremely turned on," Ginny responded. Her friend always had a way of making her feel better, but tonight her relaxed attitude wasn't working. Did she think that made her feel better?

"Let's just hurry up and sit down, dinners about to start," Hermione insisted. When at last they found their seats, several more people came up to greet her, and congratulate her on a job well done. But when Harry had returned from the Minister's table, everyone was silent and immediately returned to their seats, as the Minister stood up to speak. He thanked them for any donations they'd give out that night. He also briefly congratulated Hermione and the rest of the social committee for putting together another marvelous Fall Gala, and then without further ado, the dinner arrived in front of them; much like it appeared in front of all the students at Hogwarts during their feasts.

Hermione ate very little. She vaguely noted the fish was excellent, but nothing more about dinner. Trays filled with champagne and anything else you could possibly want were magically levitating around on their own (less expenses, fewer help), but waiters were actually carrying some of the trays. Hermione was currently watching the levitating trays to make sure they were working correctly (She charmed them by herself).

She spotted an Auror by the name of Stephen Cornfoot waving at her from the next table. She meekly smiled at him, to which he got up to walk over to their table. She groaned inwardly. When he arrived, he looked at Harry and Ginny beside her, "Good evening, Potter, Weasley." They nodded their heads in greeting, but didn't have time to reply back. "Hermione you look beautiful tonight. And well done. This party, I reckon you've out done yourself this year," Stephen praised.

Stephen was a former Ravenclaw a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts. His hair was so black it reminded her of Snape's hair, only less greasy, and much shorter. Hermione often found herself caught up in his eyes, wondering what color they were, since they often changed. Tonight they looked like the color of sherry, somewhere between amber and brown. 

She had recently gone on a few dates with Stephen. He was smart and witty, and had a nice smile that easily coaxed one from her. He was also a very cunning Auror, so she had heard; brave but not foolhardy. But there was something about him that had her unwilling to take the next step. _He isn't a certain redheaded fool_, her mind chided.

She looked up into that amber gaze, and smiled easily at him, "Thank you, but I can't take all the credit." Stephen nodded his head politely in understanding. It was then that she noticed Ginny and Harry had left the table. Stephen sat down beside her.

She tried not to look at him beside her, instead focusing on the couples dancing in the middle of the room. He put his hand on her hand under the table, which made her jump slightly. "Hermione, would you look at me?" She did, and what she saw looking back was enough to make her feel awkward. What had she done to inspire such a bold display? She was very formal on their dates, never dropping any hints that she wanted anything romantic from him. So why did he always insist on continuing this way?

He looked at her eagerly, "would you like to dance with me?" She looked down at his hand lying on top of hers, and thought of a way out of this. It's not that she didn't like Stephen, just that she needed her space, right now included. She didn't want to be rude to him either. Her mind thought of a million ways to say no, none of which was kind. She looked around the room for Ginny, oh why had they left her?

As she searched the dance floor trying to spot her best friends, Stephen was getting impatient. She heard him clear his throat next to her. She looked back Stephen and was about to turn him down when she felt a presence taking the chair on the opposite side of Stephen beside her. 

Before she could analyze Stephen's grimace, she turned to see Draco Malfoy already seated in Ginny's abandoned seat next to her, and curse him, looking decidedly delicious.

He wore a fitted black suit with a dark green silk tie. His hair was pushed back out of his face, which gave Hermione a better view of his mercurial eyes. She was left speechless. "Granger, there you are. Did you forget that I had the next dance?" He asked her in a deep commanding voice that held no room for consideration.

She barely had time to ponder what he had meant before she was swept onto the dance floor, melting with the other twirling couples. Stephen was glaring at them from his seat, a look a betrayal that made Hermione shiver. She watched him get up from his seat, before Draco had spun her around so she wasn't facing his direction anymore. She silently thanked the former prince of Slytherin for allowing her to make a break for it before things got weird.

Although she feared things may already have. Was she dancing in front of the entire Ministry with a former Death Eater without a qualm? Draco was a pleasure to dance with though. Unlike Ron, who had two left feet that he used to trample on hers.

Draco spun her around the dance floor; leading them in a waltz that Hermione had no idea she knew. She supposed it was a testament to how good he was, that she could trust him to guide her around the floor, and just completely let go. Further evidence that Malfoy had seemingly been bred for romancing a woman, she thought. 

After a few moments, she noticed several people staring at her, including Harry and Ginny, the latter giving her a knowing look, and whispering to the person beside them. She supposed it wasn't every day that the wizarding community got to see Hermione, Golden-Trio Granger, swept off her feet by Draco, Son-of-a-Death-Eater, Malfoy. Things were bound to be said.

"Don't worry about them, they're just watching me," Draco assured her quietly into her ear upon noticing her twitching eyes, and frightful face. She looked up at him, and he could tell that he had flustered her by the way her brown eyes became as large as saucers. He failed to notice many times before that Hermione's eyes had little flecks of gold around the irises, and her upper lip was turned up in a slight pout. Just the smell of her perfume made him loose good judgment. She was absolutely breath taking, literally. Everything about her was making him fight for control over his mind.

His eyes hadn't left her ever since she'd entered the Atrium with Potter and the Weaslette in tow. When she turned to walk in the opposite direction, and he spotted the warm tanned skin of her lower back, he was anxious to touch it. While she sat at the table with a smarmy looking man who he recognized as an Auror, quickly glancing around with a look of stress on her beautiful face, Draco couldn't help himself. The urge to help her to relax, and be the one to remove that stress, was too great for even his practiced control.

"You look surprisingly decent tonight, Granger," Draco said casually. Hermione felt the need to end it right then and there before she did something she'd regret, like making a scene. Was Draco complimenting her? Did hell freeze over? Her nagging conscience was protesting his behavior.

"I suppose I should thank you," she hastily changed the subject. He tilted his head a bit. 

"Whatever for?" He wondered. She gave him an impatient look. "Oh you mean saving your arse from that Auror? No thanks needed, Granger, I merely recognized the look in his eyes as unrequited love, and couldn't pass up the opportunity to humiliate an Auror. Especially one as haughty as he looked."

Hermione snorted. "Perhaps it takes one to know one, Malfoy?" He smirked at her, and she lost all accountability over her hormones again.

The song ended, and she silently thanked Merlin. Immediately she left the dance floor and headed towards the open bar. She ordered two firewhiskeys, and downed the first on the spot. She needed to get a hold of herself, not drink away the little restraint she had left. But she still felt the pressure on her bare lower back where his hands had been, and gulped the second firewhiskey of the night without further thought.

She needed to find Ginny and Harry. They would make her feel better. But she remembered what Ginny had said yesterday about staying away from him tonight, and quickly thought better of it. She'd just say I told you so, and if there was anything Hermione hated to hear it was _I told you so_.

She held up her hand to the bartender, whom she dimly noted was a man this year, and he quickly poured her another glass of firewhiskey, albeit with a concerned look. Before she could turn to head back for the table in which her friends sat, she saw something that made her immediately become bitter and resentful, as she paused to watch. Hermione knew she wasn't self-destructive, but this was something she couldn't turn away from no matter how hard she tried.

Ron was arm and arm with Lavender Brown, and he was twirling her around in circles on the dance floor, while she giggled with enthusiasm. He looked so happy and handsome. Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of her childhood crush. How did he still have this sort of impact upon her? Even two years later?

She knew he'd be here tonight, but seeing this made her overwhelmed with past emotions. Suddenly she was back in sixth year at Hogwarts, watching Lavender cling to him wherever they went, howling that irritating "Won Won". She thought the war had finally brought Ron and her together. She thought she loved him then, when they were hunting Horcruxes, or in the midst of battle, a second from death. But she later realized she was being naïve. Ron never loved her. Had a crush on her, maybe, but really love her as much as she loved him, obviously not.

But still, being around someone most of your life, and loving them as long as she had loved Ron, it didn't go away so easy. She'd still see him around the Ministry, but never with _her_. Hermione knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but for some reason, she couldn't shake the betrayed and bitter feelings she had wherever Ron was concerned. 

She downed her third drink with reckless abandon. She reveled in the burning sensation it caused in her stomach; anything to distract from the painful images that wracked her brain at the sight of Ron and Lavender; images she thought she'd suppressed long ago.

"Easy with that firewhiskey, Granger. Or you might actually do what your face is candidly suggesting you want to do," the former Prince of Slytherin admonished.

She sighed, suddenly wanting to take out her anger at Ron and Stephen, on Malfoy. "Why don't you just go away?" She half-heartedly asked him, without looking into his eyes.

"And leave you alone to assuredly assassinate Weasel with your eyes? I wouldn't miss that for anything," Draco said in mock amusement. She frowned at him, and Draco finally caught her eyes. She looked close to crying. He understood all too well how she felt at that moment. Knowing what Ron had done to her two years ago, (it was common knowledge when part of the golden trio broke up) he figured she felt the same way he felt when his father had told him he was to be a death eater; abandoned, deceived because of someone else's selfish choices.

Draco didn't know when she'd changed from the strong independent woman he knew her to be, into this hopeless emotional wreck standing before him, but he suddenly felt like going over to Weasel and hexing him for what he'd done to her. She closed her eyes briefly, and Draco bit his lip. He was never one for comforting anyone. His hand stretched towards her cautiously. But before he could brush a lock of pin-straight hair from her sullen face, she opened her eyes again, and caught him seconds before.

"Why are you here?" Hermione suddenly asked him. He made a gesture as if to point out the obvious, but she shook her head. The effort made her sway slightly. "You know what I mean. This is the third time I've seen you in a week. I haven't seen you this much in ten years. What are you playing at?" He eyed her, his stoic expression still residing on his perfect face. Granger was drunk! He was sure of it. This was going to be easier than he originally thought.

"I'm offended, Granger. I've seen you a few times this week, _coincidentally_, and you assume I have an agenda?" He looked serious, but she knew he was being sarcastic. She also knew it wasn't a coincidence. Draco Malfoy always had a purpose for doing something, and Hermione feared it had to do with seducing her.

"I was perfectly happy alone, thank you very much," she slurred while jabbing her fingers into his chest, and leaning frighteningly towards the left. "Then you come along looking all _perfect_, and acting all _charming_! As if you'd actually changed! Rubbish! You ruined everything!" Immediately after she said it, she covered her mouth as if more would come out unintentionally. What was wrong with her? Too many firewhiskeys, she assumed. Draco inflated a bit after her confession, and smiled dazzlingly at her in response. She turned around to make a dash for it.

"Look, just leave me alone—," she called out to Malfoy who was following behind her, but before she made it two steps she spied out of the corner of her eye Ron and Lavender again, and turned to see them fully locked in a passionate embrace. Hermione's face fell, and she felt reckless again, a seething mad. They parted, and Ron looked her directly in the eyes. Ice blue eyes that she'd know anywhere, since she'd looked into them every day for over ten years of her life.

He blinked at her glare from across the dance floor, a look on his face that clearly was pity for her. She hated him at that moment. He pitied her? Hermione hated being pitied above all else. Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed Malfoy-who was watching her face intently-by the shirt collar roughly, and was kissing him. She knew Ron was watching her. She felt powerful and vengeful, all at the same time.

Malfoy quickly adapted to her behavior. He knew what she was doing, and it turned him on more than anything. _So Granger could play hardball, who knew?_ He thought to himself.

But being as cunning as he was, he took this opportunity to turn up the heat. He ran his fingers up her bare back lightly, and firmly grabbed a hold of the back of her neck, as his tongue entered her mouth. She tasted like firewhiskey, and it drove Draco insane with lust. She responded with equal fervor, grabbing his forearm, and scratching her nails across his back.

Draco didn't want it to end, but he didn't want it to go on any longer here, so he broke the kiss. Hermione looked stunned at what she had just done. All thoughts of tormenting Ron quickly were forgotten. _Merlin, could he kiss!_ Hermione thought to herself.

"I can't believe I did that," She admitted after a few moments, gingerly touching her lips with her fingers. She looked back to where Ron had been, but he had vanished. Then she looked up at Draco, his eyes like storm clouds again. She bit her lip at the obvious turmoil written all over his face.

He took her hand roughly in his and practically dragged her away from the bar, where there were now people watching intently. When she realized they were making a scene, she dug her heels into the floor to stop him, nearly falling over in the process. "No," she called firmly to him. He didn't even bother looking at her, just kept dragging her. "No!" She said louder this time, and he stopped.

"It's too late for last minute anxiety. I want to finish what you started back there," He growled. _Finish what she started_? Merlin, he meant to take her from here! At first, she just thought he was angry with her for kissing him, but the pained expression he wore was enough for her to reconsider. She turned back towards the crowd. What about Harry and Ginny? They'd worry about where she went. And Ron saw her kiss him! Oh, no, what if they think Malfoy did something to her? Wait, she thought, was she actually toying with the idea of leaving here with him? No, her mind protested, walk away now!

"No, Malfoy, this cannot happen. You're you, and I'm me. We're enemies, for Merlin's sake! I just had one too many firewhiskey's and lost my mind, that's all," She started picking at her dress, suddenly feeling very exposed under his austere gaze. "Besides, this is why I don't get a date to the Gala, I have to stay here for the Auction."

He appraised her for a moment longer before his usual arrogant expression took over his face once again. He sighed frustratingly, and let go of her hand. He was abruptly angry. No one turned down a shag with him. "I saw your face, you're still in love with him. Aren't you? Well, fine. Go back to him then. _Oh wait_, that's right, I guess he doesn't want you anymore. I don't blame him, honestly. You're impossible. One minute you're hot, and then you're cold. No wonder he cheated."

Hermione's bottom lip quivered. The look on her face suggested she wanted to cry, or smack him. However, she did neither, instead she became the fiery Gryffindor he knew too well. "How dare you! You don't know me! A moment ago it was pretty clear you wanted _me_. Malfoy, the pureblood supremacist wanting to take home a _mudblood_. Imagine the irony," she slurred ungracefully. He glared at her. The audacity of this woman!

Before he said something more to anger the witch before him, he turned away from her and melted into the crowd. "Run away, coward!" She yelled at his retreating back. She noticed several people silently watching their exchange. She felt hurt, and guilty beyond belief. At that moment all she wanted to do was get out of there immediately. Those firewhiskey's hadn't helped any either. No wonder they called it liquid courage. She kissed Malfoy in front of everyone! Her brain silently panicked.

Hermione took a deep calming breath, and blinked to squelch the tears forming in her eyes, and made her way back to her friends.

Ginny and Harry were chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the Minister's table. Ginny immediately spotted her afflicted look, and excused herself from Harry's side to make her way to Hermione's. 

She nudged her best friend away from her parent's prying ears, "Hermione, what's happened? You look awful!" Ginny wondered. When Hermione didn't immediately reply, she prodded a little more, "was it Ron? Because I'll hex him into next week, I swear!" Hermione shook her head looking guilty.

"I just want to get out of here," Hermione explained, without looking her best friend in the eye. "I drank one too many firewhiskey's and feel awful. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Hermione, it's been barely an hour. And why were you downing firewhiskeys this early? Is this something to do with Malfoy, because I saw you dancing with him earlier and—," Hermione cut in before Ginny could jump to conclusions.

"No, I mean, yes," she paused waiting for something to come to her. Her head was feeling fuzzy, and trying to make up a lie was proving difficult. Then she remembered what he had said to her. "He's horrible, Ginny!" She burst into tears. Ginny quickly led her away from nosey eyes to a more secluded area near the loos.

"What did he do to you? I swear I'll go get Harry and we'll all have a go at that blonde piece of rubbish!" Ginny whispered furiously.

Meanwhile, Hermione wasn't listening, and instead was hysterically mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'kissed', and 'Ronald', that's when Ginny started rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm going to go get Harry, wait here," Ginny demanded, but Hermione was already stopping her retreat.

"No, please Ginny, I just want to go home, I feel dizzy," Hermione sniffed. "Please," she added when Ginny looked unsure.

"At least stay until after the silent auction is over," She insisted. Hermione sighed, defeated. Ginny was right, she had to make sure the auction went smoothly before she left. But she felt so embarrassed. Everyone had seen what she did with Malfoy, and now crying? _Get a grip, Hermione_. She thought to herself.

"Yes, you're right. I'll just go clean myself up," Hermione reluctantly agreed as she rubbed a hand across her face to wipe away the tears, and smudged her eye makeup even more than it already was. Ginny nodded, handed her a handkerchief from her handbag, and pointed to Hermione towards the loo.

Hermione understood that her makeup was probably everywhere by now, and dabbed the handkerchief to her cheeks, and thanked Ginny. "I'll see you in a moment, Hermione, if you're sure you'll be all right?" Hermione nodded. "I'll be at the table." She agreed, and left her best friend for the loo, all the while oblivious to a certain blonde fuming wizard watching her from across the room. 

He was sulking, he knew. But this night hadn't gone how he planned. The Daily Prophet photographers were looking for him right this moment, leading him further into the shadows. He leaned against the large stone pillar and sipped his drink silently, unaware that someone had come to stand beside him. A deep voiced chuckled in wry amusement. Noticing he was no longer alone, Draco turned to find Blaise following his line of sight, and smirking rather smugly.

"What do you want?" Draco growled. He hated him at that moment. He looked so sure of himself, something that Draco prided himself on, but lately had lost his grip on.

"I certainly had hoped tonight would be eventful, and boy has it!" Blaise exclaimed. "Thanks to you, of course."

"What are you going on about, Blaise?" Draco narrowed his gaze at his friend standing beside him. To his chagrin, he didn't lose the smug expression. In fact, it increased a bit.

"The Mudblood Granger," Blaise began. "I heard what she did by the bar a moment ago. I'm just surprised, that's all. Hasn't your father ever taught you not to touch those dirty creatures?" Blaise joked. Draco was gritting his teeth, and losing his patience. But Blaise felt he had to go on, "So it's true, then? How'd you get the little goody-goody to unhinge the stick from her arse? I bet she was begging for it wasn't she? If anyone could tame that know-it-all bitch it's you, mate." Draco took a deep breath to steady himself. He never lost his composure, especially at a Ministry event in front of Daily Prophet photographers.

"Zambini, do yourself a favor and bugger off, before something really bad happens to you," Draco drawled impassively. Blaise wasn't deterred. The bastard actually laughed as if he was kidding.

"Oh this is too perfect," Blaise smirked as if he had just won a muggle game show. "She turned you down, didn't she? That's why you're over here brooding. And I thought you could charm the pants of Hagrid if you wished." He actually laughed at his own stupid joke. The nerve!

Draco turned to stare directly into Blaise's face, a mere centimeter away. "What do you know about women, aside from Pansy the whore Parkinson? Isn't that why you blindly follow me wherever I go? Can't get anyone on your own, huh? Well that's because you have the face of a troll and the wit of a flobberworm."

Blaise lost his smugness somewhat then. "As oppose to you, having the disposition of a blast-ended skrewt? You make those ill-tempered cretins look almost friendly."

Draco never usually got this worked up over simple name calling. He felt like his hands ball into fists at his sides. Draco decided he had enough of this, and took out his wand. Blaise had the audacity to actually pretend he didn't see the wand pointed at his chest. "You've tested my patience long enough, Zambini. Walk away before I decide to show you just how skilled I am the Cruciatus curse, and to hell with the Ministry!" Draco growled.

Zambini adjusted his coat, never looking at his friend when he made his threat. "As if you're stupid enough to get yourself thrown into Azkaban over a mudblood. Please do put that thing away before you make a fool of yourself, Malfoy. You're not scaring anyone with your idle threats." Before Draco could respond, Blaise had walked away looking decidedly satisfied. 

That's when his attention once again was on the former Gryffindor witch across the room. She had watched the entire scene unfold from where she stood beside the daft Auror he had saved her from earlier. Luckily, it didn't seem as if he had noticed anything that had happened over here, seeing as how he only had eyes for Granger.

That thought completely repulsed him. This was the second time he had seen Granger with him since the beginning of this Gala tonight. Maybe there was something going on besides the obvious co-worker relationship? Draco needed some air, so he walked away from his spot beside the concrete pillar, all the while Granger's eyes never left his.

Upon exiting the shadows, Hermione watched as several witches assailed Draco. One looked positively desperate, even from where she stood across the hall. This really was turning out to be an interesting night, she thought to herself as Stephen continued his story about his latest mission to Norway earlier this year. She had tuned him out sometime after 'dealing in dark artifacts.' If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she'd never believe that Malfoy had taken his wand out to point it at Blaise Zambini in front of nearly the whole Ministry, and over a hundred Aurors to boot.

She watched from afar as Draco took one of the witch's hands to his lips, however his eyes searched for hers for the briefest of moments. When they had locked eyes, it was as if he was kissing her hand instead. Hermione's mouth fell open, and she glared at him. He was teasing her! The git!

Obviously she had said something out loud because Stephen had stopped talking, and was giving her the most confused look. "Pardon me?" He asked her, bewildered.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione turned her attention back to Stephen.

"You said _git_," Stephen proclaimed suspiciously, while following the direction her eyes had been a moment ago. "You're obviously not interested in what I have to say, so sorry to have wasted your time," he added haughtily, and then walked away leaving her alone again. She shrugged to herself. If she were being honest with herself, she was glad to be rid of him. He hadn't seen her encounter with Malfoy less than an hour ago, but he had determined something was amiss, and therefore couldn't deny a trip over to her as soon as she exited the loo.

Hermione looked back to where Draco had last been standing but he wasn't there anymore. She didn't have time to search for where he went because the Minister was now addressing everyone in the Atrium. Everyone fell silent, and looked towards the top table, as Kingsley introduced Wanda Mockridge, who was on the social committee and in charge of the silent auction. She stood up, and took the floor. 

"Good evening, it is now time for the main event. Most of you know, I'm sure, how we go about this, but for those of you unaware, let me give you a brief introduction. The Silent Auction is for raising money, so please be generous! You have seen the items up for bid beforehand, so now's your chance to own these donated items!" she waved her wand behind her, and a large table appeared with all sorts of things displayed on it. Hermione looked at the table, as did everyone else. Fine pieces of jewelry obviously donated by an old family. Portraits of people long deceased, and rare items the Ministry had previously confiscated from criminals. The table seemed to go on forever, and then Wanda began again, and everyone's attention was focused on her. "There is a piece of parchment set before each item on display. Print your name and bid onto the parchment you wish to bid on. I will warn you when there is five minutes left, upon which time the parchment will disappear, and the bidding will end. Happy bidding!"

Hermione watched as everyone shuffled to the long table, the levitating trays of champagne followed. She grabbed a glass as one such tray passed by her. Everyone had left her standing near the bar.

Ministry employees were welcome to partake in the auction, but most of them just watched on as the witches and wizards with pockets full of galleons did the bidding.

She was seated at the bar alone, wondering if she should be drinking any more alcohol this evening; It had got her into so much trouble already. So when the bartender offered her another glass of champagne, she declined. Her thoughts then turned towards Malfoy again. She had gotten lucky that the Daily Prophet photographers hadn't harassed her yet. She knew first thing tomorrow morning they'd be wondering why she was locking lips with the former Prince of Slytherin at the Fall Gala.

Why _was_ she locking lips with the former Prince of Slytherin? He was tolerable these days, but that didn't make a good enough excuse. Ron had certainly pushed her to the edge this time, that's for sure. Hermione cursed Malfoy silently. If he had just stayed away from her, none of this would be a problem. 

She could see it now, front page of the Prophet: War heroin caught in Malfoy's sights at Annual Fall Gala. She hung her head in her hands on the bar, feeling weak and stupid. How had she let this happen? Hermione Granger the witch with the brains, succumbing to petty tricks. 

But he _had_ looked awfully sincere in regards to his behavior when he was dragging her to the floos. She was certain that she saw the briefest hint of anguish on his handsome face. But what did it mean? And what was going on between him and Blaise Zambini? After much pondering, she didn't think she would ever figure Draco Malfoy out, not in a million years.

The Silent Auction ended and the crowd was collectively swaying from mass consumptions of alcohol. Harry and Ginny were dancing again (or as close to dancing as possible when you've drank as much as they had) as Hermione sat alone at their table. No one visited her like at the beginning of the night, and she ascertained that her mood was repelling.

She abruptly stood up from the table, and walked towards her two best friends on the dance floor tired of being the third wheel. When she got to them, they stopped laughing and turned to her expectantly. "I'm tired, I'll see you two tomorrow?"

Harry smiled at her, oblivious to her fowl mood, "Of course, Mione. Enjoy your evening."

Ginny gave her a knowing look and patted her shoulder. "I'll be over tomorrow morning, sleep well."

She finally left the Gala, thankful it was over and silently praying to Merlin she could finally get on with life normally. 


	4. Chapter 4

Morning broke via bright rays of sunshine beaming in from her bedroom window, and birds eagerly chirping from outside. Hermione huffed loudly into her pillow, and rolled over onto her stomach, cursing the devil birds outside for waking her.

That's when her head felt like it was splitting in two. She groaned and sat up, holding onto her aching head as if it might do just that. Suddenly, memories of last night flooded her mind, which made her want to smother herself with her pillow.

Had she really kissed Draco Malfoy? She cursed him, and the sodding firewhiskey. He was such an impossible person. First, he's his usual vile self in her office earlier this week, then he's asking her to dance, and being friendly, for Merlin's sake, in front of pretty much the whole Ministry of Magic, including her ex. Then he pretty much tells her that it was her fault Ron had cheated on her, while only moments ago, he had snogged her and tried to drag her home to his bed.

She got up from her four-poster bed, and nearly fell over upon standing. All of her muscles were on fire. It felt like she had ran a marathon last night. She grabbed one of the posts to steady herself. She needed to get it together, and quickly, she thought. How much had she had to drink last night? And what were they lacing the drinks with? Veritaserum?

At least Draco had shown his true self before she got in too deep, pun intended. Just the thought of how this morning could have been going, made her feel instantly sick to her stomach. She stumbled into the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of her reflection.

The red lipstick was on her teeth and most of her left cheek. Her hair had frizzed again and was starting to wave in places. She felt like Cinderella after the Fairy Godmother's magic had worn off: a simple maid who danced with a Prince the night before, pretending to be someone she's not.

Well that's all it could be. She couldn't see Draco again, not after this. He was a master manipulator and she was merely his next conquest, who had fallen for his charm, and the prospect of what could be.

She stripped off her sleep robes, and along with it, any feelings she had for the unbelievably arrogant Malfoy heir, and got into a steaming shower. Afterwards she scrubbed every inch of her body thoroughly in order to eliminate the memory of Malfoy's hands upon her back and neck, and then she went into the kitchen to brew up a headache remedy.

After steeping the ingredients for twelve minutes, she gulped down the potion eagerly. Immediate relief made her almost sigh. Never again would she drink that much! She promised herself.

A loud tapping on her kitchen window made her jump right out of her chair. She spotted a tawny barn owl perched upon her windowsill looking at her impatiently. No wonder, she thought to herself a moment later, for he was a Daily Prophet owl here to deliver the rubbish of a paper, awaiting some sickles in return.

Before the owl had even made it out her window, the 'rubbish paper' had turned her blood to ice in a split second.

"Bloody hell!" She shouted to the heavens.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco sat at his antique cherry desk in his drawing room. His unfocused gaze was burning a hole into Granger's face on the front of the Daily Prophet. He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. And furious with himself too. He had single-handedly taken what his parents had perfected over the last ten years and pissed it all away in one night. To say they were displeased, was an understatement. They had tongue lashed him so thoroughly that he couldn't help but wonder if it was only a premonition of what was to come.

The Prophet's article had a nice rendition of the evening's events, claiming that Draco had been threatening everyone at the Gala, Granger included. They even went as far as to assume he had forced himself on her, hence the rough arm pulling afterwards.

He gritted his teeth to keep from smashing anymore of his priceless furniture. _It was all _her_ fault! _He thought angrily. _She_ had kissed _him_! Merlin, why can't they see that? Well, if he were being honest with himself, he'd never have believed it either.

He couldn't deny the fact that he had planned on doing far worse with her that night anyways, but it was supposed to be on his terms, and _in private_! Never to be discovered. But then why did his conscience steadfastly disagree?

He could admit there was something about Granger that he wanted, aside from her body. But what was it? She was smart, of course, courageous, and definitely beautiful. But he could have any number of women with those qualities. _But she doesn't want you_, his inner voice prodded, _that's why_.

He'd just have to try a different approach. She had kissed him when Ron was watching, so she was using him for her own selfish vengeance. Then he'd just have to figure out a way to get to her through Weasley. He'd do whatever it took, because he would have her before he was married, if it was the last thing he did. He silently made a promise to himself that Granger would be his last hoorah before his social life went up in smoke. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny didn't bother owling Hermione Sunday morning, she merely flooed right over, too impatient to bother to send warning. Her best friend didn't look at all surprised to see her come flying through her sitting room in a flush of emerald flames. Nor did she seem surprised when she waved a Daily prophet in the air like a white flag. Just as she had predicted, word had spread like wildfire. The picture on the front page mocked her from Ginny's hands. Hermione Granger, best friend to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, snogging Draco Malfoy, pardoned ex death eater, as every prominent wizard and witch in London looked on in horror.

Hermione sighed and accepted the inevitable. Her reputation was ruined, along with her pride. Ginny came over to sit beside her on the sofa, and looked at her best friend gravely.

"Have you read it, then?" Ginny asked. Hermione shook her head.

"I can only imagine what that snake has said about me," Hermione replied solemnly. "The picture was enough."

"She said Malfoy forced himself on you! Merlin, Hermione!" Ginny looked concerned. "I'm sure that if it had been anyone else, she'd have laid the blame solely on him, however your 'relationship', for lack of a better word, with Rita guarantees a bit of wild speculation on your part in this 'love triangle' as she so affectionately calls it." _Love triangle? _Ginny opened up the Prophet and began reading it to Hermione.

"_Miss Granger's behaviour towards the young Malfoy is bittersweet, indeed. One would ask if Miss Granger deliberately intended to provoke her ex fiancé, Mr. Ronald Weasley, by locking lips with his former enemy? Was this all some sick revenge plot? Or does this love triangle go deeper than meets the eye? No word yet on how Mr. Weasley is taking the news_." Ginny relayed in a snooty voice that Hermione assumed was meant to not only mock Rita Skeeter, but also amuse Hermione. Well it didn't work. 

She stood up from the sofa, and started to pace restlessly. "Ex-fiancé? Is she insisting that I've cooked up this sort of game, to merely push Ron to come back to me?" By the time Hermione finished her rant, she had bit all her nails off her left hand, and was envisioning all the hexes she could use on Rita.

"What happened, Hermione? I mean last night? I can't help but feel as if I'm missing something. Harry has been demanding answers from me that I can't give. And Ron owled this morning livid." Ginny stood up to come stand by her best friend, looking bewildered.

Hermione sighed. "I was upset. Ron was snogging Lavender on the dance floor. I saw them from the bar, and felt like vomiting my several glasses of firewhiskey I had just downed in an attempt to block out the images," she started in a hollow voice. "But that's when he looked at me. His face was pitiful. He looked like he felt sorry for me," Ginny patted her best friend's hand to reassure her she understood all too well how much Hermione hated anyone's pity. "That's when I did it. Something I instantly regretted, let me assure you."

Ginny was staring at Hermione's face unabashed. She lived for this sort of gossip. "So this _was_ for Ron to see, then?"

"I," Hermione gulped hard. "I only meant to rattled Ron for what he did to me, I didn't want to hurt him. But I couldn't stop myself. Malfoy kissed so well; things got out of hand quickly. I thought any moment I'd rip off his robes before I could stop myself. Oh, Ginny, you were right. I should have stayed away from him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!" She defended.

"It's all right. I can't blame you for what you did. Ron hurt you more than I know. It's natural to want revenge. But, Malfoy?" She asked with a bit of admonition.

"I _know_.." Hermione sighed. "But he's different these days." Ginny laughed lightly, which made Hermione look into her friend's face. She looked positively amused.

"He was known as the Slytherin Sex God back at Hogwarts, I doubt he's changed that much," Ginny joked. "Hermione you can't blame yourself. Many witches have fallen for Malfoy, even if he is an arrogant little ferret. But this isn't Hogwarts anymore. You don't have to hate him just because of who he is. If he turns out to be different then he's fair game." She shrugged.

"Yes, but its Malfoy! Death eater, archenemy, Malfoy! I can't excuse all of his past just because he's grown into a man who oozes sex appeal. Or just because he probably shags like it's an art form he's perfected." Ginny lit up at her latter comment. "No, no, I swear I only kissed him. Nothing else. I swear to Merlin I'll never look at him again!"

Her and her best friend laughed together at her asseveration, neither one really believing it to be true.

Hermione asked that Ginny be the one to inform Harry that the Daily Prophet article was indeed rubbish, and that Malfoy hadn't forced himself on her, or threatened her in anyway. Ginny promised she'd break it to him easy that his friend since childhood had took it upon herself to snog their archenemy, instead of the other way around.

She didn't know what was worse, believing that it was all Malfoy's fault, or admitting she shared the blame? Either way, tomorrow she'd be the laughing stock of Wizarding London. By tomorrow everyone would believe her to be a self-destructive slag who was sleeping with Malfoy in order to exact revenge against her ex-boyfriend, who had come out of this-once again-looking as golden as ever. She gritted her teeth in frustration, and sought a reprieve in one of her favorite books. 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The moment Draco stepped foot in the crowded Ministry the following morning, he knew that his dwindling patience would never hold up throughout the entire day. People were staring at him wherever he went. Their eyes followed him until he was so fed up that he took to snarling at anyone in his vicinity. 

He was just about to go home when he saw her. She was chatting with the Auror he recognized from last night, looking as beautiful as ever, but Draco quickly noted the underlying exhaustion she was trying to hide underneath her friendly facade. The sudden urge to go to her and comfort her arose, but he quickly pushed it aside. What would he say? She probably despised him at the moment, and he felt like the best thing to do was to avoid her in public right now, as his father suggested this morning.

But he couldn't deny he longed to touch her; feel her soft skin against his again. This infatuation with Granger was beginning to become an addiction; a small ember smoldered into an inferno. He realized his feet were unconsciously taking him in the direction of where she spoke to the Auror, and stopped abruptly, still too far away for her to notice.

Suddenly, the Auror left, and she headed towards the lifts, which, his foggy brain noted, were in his direction. He side stepped a few old witches who were waiting for a lift, and started to walk behind a group of people exiting one to the left. Hermione was just about to walk past him oblivious when someone exited the lift he was passing and called his name, alerting Hermione to his position immediately. He ignored whoever called his name, and locked onto her narrowed chocolate brown eyes.

She gave him a filthy look, and continued past him as if he didn't exist. He watched her go, gritting his teeth in frustration. Hermione had a way of making him go from zero to boiling in less than a second. But today it was as if she had lit a fire in his veins with her indifference. Her look was clear: _This is all your fault_. And abruptly he felt like blaming _her_ for everything. How could she blame him for this? She had ample opportunities to turn him down last night, but she kissed him! She knew people would know, for Merlin's sake! Did she think to snog him in front of _Daily Prophet _photographers, and they'd merely ignore her? If so, she was more ignorant than he thought.

The person who had called his name from the lift was none other than Blaise Zambini. Draco rolled his eyes and cursed his current luck. He turned his attention to his former Slytherin classmate, not catching the first part of his sentence. "What is it, Blaise?" Draco growled impatiently. His fingers itched to be around his stupid neck, wringing the life out of it.

"Careful mate, or else someone might think you actually like the mudblood," he smirked.

Draco started to walk away from Blaise before he did something more to damage his reputation. Everyone was already suspicious of his behavior at the Gala, even more reason to go home and lay low for a while.

Draco heard Blaise's footsteps behind him. "You know, if you want an uneventful shag, you could choose someone who isn't such a bitch." 

Before Draco knew what was happening, white-hot fury had spread the entire length of his body. He reared back and punched Blaise right in the nose. To which a resounding crunch acknowledged it was definitely broken. Blaise stumbled a few feet back, holding his now bloody nose. "Oi! What was that for?"

"I warned you, Zambini!" Draco noticed how silent the Atrium had become. Every single person was watching him intently now. A few nearby wizards had come to Blaise's aid. Draco stared at Blaise's face with wide eyes. _What have I done?_ Draco wondered, while holding his sore fist.

"You'll pay for this Malfoy!" Blaise called as Draco walked swiftly towards the floos. He needed to get out of the Ministry quickly before anyone started asking questions he couldn't answer.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione found herself quite confused. It hadn't been more than an hour since she had seen Draco in the Atrium, standing beside a bloodied Blaise Zambini, a look of pure malice marring his usual stoic face. Before she could conclude what he had just done, he had hastily left. Malfoy wasn't the type of person to go around breaking his friend's noses in public. So why had he done it?

Nothing was making sense to her, and if there was one thing Hermione detested it was anything she couldn't analyze with success. Malfoy was always that something to her. Whenever she thought she figured him out, he'd do something unusual. Like be nice to her. Punch his friend's face. 

What was worse was figuring out her feelings where the former Slytherin was concerned. If anyone had asked her to associate one word with Malfoy it would have been all too easy, she could think of three: Egotistical, deceitful, and cowardly. But now, it wasn't that easy. He was still arrogant, to be sure. But she had other words to associate with him now, and they weren't nearly as hateful.

She packed up her paperwork, and decided she'd work from home today. She wasn't going to get anything done here.

When she was shutting her office door, she felt a presence behind her. Her instincts were always very sharp. She summed it up to being in a war where there was always someone trying to kill her. When she turned around, however, the war couldn't have prepared her for what she saw.

Blue eyes that usually were full of pity for her these days were now trained on her, and instead they flared in concern, and upon further inspection, anger. Ronald Weasley always had a knack for arousing emotions in her that she couldn't suppress no matter how hard she tried. Just simply glancing at those blue eyes made her long to be fourteen again, and deeply in love with this man. But he had other plans, ones that consisted of betraying her. So she held her ground, and mustered up all the courage she could find.

"What are you doing, Ronald?" She tried for indifference, but must be failing miserably, because he became more agitated.

"Can we talk?" He questioned her in a restrained voice. She immediately thought of Lavender Brown, who was the one he looked at with love these days, instead of pity or agitation; the one who he told everything to, who he trusted now, and felt her rage bubbling up. 

"I'm quite busy right now," She said with as much aloofness as she could. He didn't budge, but continued to stand there, darkening her doorway. She listened to him sigh. Just the sound of his exhale crumbled her resolve. "But you could join me for lunch?" She asked him.

"Sure," he agreed, and followed her out of the DMLE. They ended up at a muggle café in Whitehall. Hermione didn't mind going to muggle restaurants because everyone left her alone. Muggles were oblivious to her celebrity status as well as the rumors going around. She felt it safer than having a public lunch with Ron in Diagon Alley. The waitress poured her a cup of hot coffee, and brought Ron a cappuccino, which was his favorite muggle treat. That itself brought up painful memories which she quickly dashed away.

She wasn't sure where to begin. They hadn't spoken in years, unless it was about business, and she felt awkwardness so tense you could cut it with a knife. "So how have you been, Mione?" he started, halfheartedly.

"Been better," she replied, as she gingerly sipped her coffee. He avoided her eyes. This was getting them nowhere. She was sick of his idle chitchat. "What did you want to say to me, Ronald?" She asked him bluntly.

He looked at her for a moment, silently deciding what he wanted to say. "Are you shagging Malfoy?" He asked her without pretense. It shouldn't have made her flinch because Ron was never one for sugarcoating, but it did. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about with him, but she should have known this was why he had come to her.

"I hardly think that's any of your business, Ronald," Hermione said, slowly losing her calm demeanor.

"No, but I'd have thought you would have the common sense to realize what you were doing," Ron quipped. That struck a nerve. She'd forgotten how easily he could push the right buttons to tick her off.

"I think whomever I decide to sleep with is none of your concern. You lost that privilege when you cheated on me!" She didn't care how childish she sounded at the moment. How dare he accuse her of sleeping with Malfoy? She knew he was just trying to make her realize what she already knew: Malfoy could be conniving when he wanted to be. But hearing him of all people calling her on her mistakes irked her in ways Malfoy hadn't dreamed. The fact that he had the audacity to assume the worst of her trampled on the last bit of patience she had left.

His ears were turning red, and his jaw tightening. Hermione knew she was pushing his buttons right back. "You're going to do this now?" He asked her through clenched teeth.

"Yes, I believe it's long overdue, don't you think?" She replied tartly.

"Hermione if you did this to make me mad, it's working. But think about what you're doing. It's not going to make things better for you. Is letting that ferret put his hands all over you really worth the satisfaction of pissing me off?" He was losing his composure, and his voice was slowly rising to the point that people were starting to turn in their direction.

"Yes, as a matter of fact is _was_ satisfying. In ways you'd never have been able to satisfy me!" He knew her double meaning immediately, and he lost it. He flew his hands up in frustration, yelling an assortment of things she couldn't quite hear. She didn't dare yell back. She simply finished her coffee, and let his anger die down a bit before she said anything else.

Let him think she had done it! Who cared anyways what he thought she did in her free time? She felt so incredibly powerful at that moment that if it weren't for the muggles around them, she'd have stashed this memory in a vile to keep forever.

Ron's rant was coming to an end, and his voice was getting back to a much quieter level. "What has he done to you? You've changed, Hermione. How can you do this to me? My names all over the Prophet."

Hermione glared at her ex, feeling anger bubbling up in her stomach. How dare he assume she was doing this to _him?_ "To you? Ha! As if _you _haven't changed! We've all changed. I'm not a stupid naive little girl anymore. You're not my knight in shining armor, and Draco's not a Death Eater!" Hermione exclaimed.

"_Oh,_ so it's _Draco_ now, is it? Tell me, if he's changed so much, then why did he punch his best friend in the nose no more than an hour ago?" Ron questioned haughtily as if Hermione would then have to accept the truth in his words.

"Because he called Granger a mudblood bitch, that's why, _Weasley_," came a derisive voice from beside their table. "And he's not my best friend." They quickly looked up to see the wizard in question staring down at them as if he had been involved in this conversation all along. Hermione's mouth opened and then closed as if she under a silencing charm. Ron's face turned purple, and Hermione could almost see steam coming out from his ears. Draco sat down beside Hermione, and put his arm around her shoulder. She was too shocked to push him away.

Draco had seen Hermione leaving with Ron and saw this for what it was: an opportunity to experiment with his theory. He followed them into the muggle café, listening to their conversation (frankly, it was hard not to), not even having to hide. They were so caught up in their argument that they didn't even notice he had come to stand beside their table.

"Granger, have you forgotten you were to meet me for lunch this afternoon?" Draco drawled seductively into her ear. Her eyes became wide, and her mouth opened slightly in outrage. "No worries, you'll simply have to make it up to me later." He smirked when Ron made a choking sound.

"You…you," Ron started.

"Yes, Weasley, me. But do forgive me; I didn't think I needed your permission to take Granger to lunch. After all, you're the one that cheated on _her_."

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Hermione had found her voice.

"I can't believe it!" Ron cut in. He pushed away from the table with so much force that he spilled Hermione's coffee all over the table. Without another word, he left the café at practically a full out run.

Draco looked smugly at Ron's retreated back, while Hermione dabbed at the drops of black coffee that had splashed onto her coat. "Why are you here? Haven't you done enough already?" Hermione screeched at him. "Get off of me!" She pushed Draco's arm away from her shoulders, and stood up from the table to get away from him. He stood up as well.

A waitress came over with a towel, and Hermione's attention was drawn away from him. She apologized to the woman, handed her some parchment that Draco recognized as muggle money, then buttoned up her coat, and started walking away from him. He followed, determined to see this through.

"I'm sorry!" Draco called to her back, to which she stopped abruptly in the middle of the crowded street.

When she turned to him, the look on her face was a mixture of surprise and suspicion. Since when did Malfoy apologize for anything? That's when his earlier statement came back to her with full force. "Did you really punch Blaise because he called me a…a…" She trailed off unable to say it.

He took two swift steps and was suddenly so close to her. "Yes. I'll probably regret that soon enough. By tomorrow everyone will have forgotten about the Gala and instead be focused on that, I'm sure." Draco quickly held his tongue. Why was it that he needed to ramble?

She frowned at his pointed face. "I don't need you to defend me! Nor do I need you following me and getting involved in my business!" Hermione took a few steps backwards in her frustration. "Now Ron's going to go off and tell Harry that I was meant to see you for lunch today!"

"As if he wouldn't have told Potter you all but admitted to shagging me" Draco blinked at her ashen face. "Oh yes, I heard everything. And they call me devious." He scoffed. "When were you going to tell him that you hadn't shagged me….yet."

Hermione could scream. In fact, if the circumstances weren't what they are, she'd have taken out her wand and used the first curse she could think of on him, which at this moment might very well be an unforgivable. "You presumptuous pig! I wouldn't touch you if my life depended on it!"

"Of course not, Granger," he jeered. "You'd only touch me if Weasley were watching, right?" Hermione turned around sharply, headed towards an empty alley. Draco knew she was simply going to dissaparate once inside. He followed her before she could escape. "Wait," he called to her, his tone insistent. She paused. Now that he had her attention, he couldn't think of anything to say. He took a leap of faith, "Will you come with me? There something I've always wanted to show you."

She narrowed her eyes, debating whether or not to trust him. Of course she didn't trust him. But her curious nature wouldn't allow her to outright say no. Also, the look on his face was so genuinely hopeful that she felt it would be awful to deny him. He knew he had her when her face softened and she checked her wristwatch, but he kept his smirk at bay. "All right, but make it quick."

He didn't waste any time. He took her hand in his and then they disappeared into thin air. A second later they were just outside of Malfoy Manor. Hermione immediately took her hands out of Draco's and took two frightened steps away from him.

"Why are we _here_?" She looked worried, and upon further inspection, scared. Why would she be scared of Malfoy Manor?

"Yes, what I'd like to show you happens to be inside my home," Draco began, but Hermione wasn't listening.

"What could there be in there that I'd want to see?" She asked, looking frantic.

"What are you afraid of?" He wondered. But then it hit him. The last time she was here was during the war when his Aunt tortured her for information about the sword of Gryffindor. _I'm such an idiot_, he thought. Draco stepped closer to her, and took her hand in his. Her fingers were clammy, and she trembled slightly. "Don't worry, she'd dead. No one will hurt you here. I won't let them." He declared.

She looked into his face, and what she saw calmed her slightly, but also made her worry increase. Whatever she thought she saw at the Gala was nothing compared to this. Since when did Draco Malfoy have any other emotions besides arrogant and angry? Did he always have this other side to him, and she had simply not noticed? Or had he really changed in the last ten years?

"Come," he whispered, and led her to the huge double doors that led into the front parlour. The doors creaked eerily, but there was no other noise coming from inside the house. "Take my hands," Draco instructed. Hermione looked ready to question him so he went on, "Malfoy's are the only ones able to apparate within the Manor."

She still didn't look completely sure, but took his hands nonetheless. The sensation of apparating inside a house wasn't as bad as apparating across cities, and didn't take nearly as long. She didn't know that they had arrived until Draco let go of her hands because she apparated with her eyes closed. It was a habit that nearly got her into trouble a time or two, but she couldn't quite stop it. It was the same thing when she rode a rollercoaster; it was easier to shut it out then to accept the frightening events going on around her.

She gasped when her eyes were finally open. Malfoy had taken her to the biggest library she had ever seen in her life. Rows and rows of books that went on for miles it seemed. She circled the spot she stood for a few seconds taking it all in. The ceiling was as tall as the Great Hall's at Hogwarts, and there was a fire in the huge fireplace on the opposite side of the room, impeding the bitter chill from entering. Large floor to ceiling windows allowed enough light to read each spine on every shelf. She could get lost in here if she wasn't careful.

Malfoy watched her reaction intently. "Do you like it?" Draco asked her with the biggest smirk she had ever seen on him.

She blinked twice. "It's amazing, Malfoy." All her fear had disappeared immediately.

"Indeed, it is. My family has been adding to this library for centuries. There are books in here that are over five hundred years old. Rare tombs that no one alive has ever read," Draco explained. Her eyes lit up in excitement. "I knew you'd be the only other person who would appreciate this, more than I."

She cautiously walked towards the closest bookshelf, and gingerly ran her hand along the spines. He thought Granger could quite possibly be the only woman to turn him on without the slightest provocation. He longed to be those books, reveling in the feeling on her light caress. 

"May I?" She asked over her shoulder to him.

"No, Granger, I brought you here to simply brag," he began dripping with sarcasm. "Of course you can," he smirked when she gave him a look that clearly read: '_you're unbelievable'_.

The next few hours consisted of Granger dusting off books that had long since been forgotten, and delicately flipping the pages as if they would break off from age. They currently sat near the fire, sipping tea that Draco's house elves had brought up, while Hermione read out loud a chapter in a thick book about Dark magic. She couldn't believe these books had been here all along and the Ministry hadn't confiscated them long ago. She assumed they could suffer severe consequences for just owning them. But being Malfoys allowed them some leniency, she supposed.

Draco walked to a glass cabinet that held the oldest and rarest of his collection, and took out a book to show her. Hermione beamed with delight when he let her hold it. He could watch her lose herself in his library for hours. In fact, he had done just that. The hour grew late, it was past dinnertime, and he felt quite content to stay right where he was forever.

"I can't believe you've been able to come up here your whole life and just read whatever you like! I would never leave if it were me," Hermione admitted. He was about to ask her to do just that when he realized she was being rhetorical. "Did you mean it when you said you've always wanted to show me this?" She asked him a moment later.

Did I really say that? He wondered. Well no use in denying it now. "Well, yes. But I didn't feel so inclined until a few days ago." She gave him a small smile that made his heart rate spike. He swallowed thickly.

"Thank you," she replied sincerely. He nodded his head in response.

"You can come back whenever you like," Draco said before he could stop himself.

Hermione looked at her former enemy, and wondered where all this was coming from. Part of her was reeling with anxiety, and the other part was reminding her of Ginny's words from yesterday: "_this isn't Hogwarts anymore. You don't have to hate him just because of who he is. If he turns out to be different then he's fair game_."

She supposed that was true enough. The war was over. There was no good side or bad side anymore. They were just two people that happened to be attracted to one another. Did she just admit to being attracted to Draco Malfoy? No, all these books were going to her head, that's all. But he was gorgeous…there was no denying that.

"What about your father?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"What about him?" Draco questioned.

"Won't he be upset that I'm here?" There was a long pause as he considered her question.

"I suppose he would be," Draco replied honestly. "But he doesn't rule my life. I can bring over whomever I choose." The look on his face made Hermione suddenly feel sad for him. He looked like he knew that it wasn't true, not in the least bit.

Hermione's mind went to dark places when she thought of Lucius Malfoy. She figured Draco wouldn't feel any different, even if he was indeed his father. She followed the hearings after the war, and she knew what Lucius had done to his son during the war. Pushing him to follow in his footsteps and become a murderer for the sake of restoring their family's name. She assumed just because the war was over didn't make any difference. He was still pushing his only son towards things he didn't really want.

"You're not like him," she said quietly.

If Draco didn't know any better, he'd think she was trying to reassure him. But her tone sounded more like she was trying to convince herself, rather than him. "Yes I am." Draco asserted.

"If you were, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Why are you here?" Draco looked at her hesitantly. She looked into his eyes and wondered whether they were blue or gray. Definitely gray, her mind acknowledged.

Ignoring the fact that he was the one who brought her here, she could have simply left a while ago, but she had stayed. "Because," she shrugged, unable to admit even to herself that she enjoyed his company.

He got up and came to sit down beside her on the sofa. Her breath was caught in her throat at the look of pure carnality on his perfect face. He was too close to her, and she swore he was inching closer still. Her lips parted as she fought suffocation.

Draco reached out his hand towards her face, and ran his fingers softly over her cheek. Instinctively, she closed her eyes. His touch was so soft, so tender, so unlike what she expected it to feel like. Her heart was pounding in her chest almost like it was about to crash right through her ribcage. He took the book she was holding and placed it gently on the table beside him.

A moment later she felt his hot breath feather over her neck as he exhaled, causing shivers to run down her back. She opened her eyes as he pulled away finding his beautiful eyes upon her. Draco's face was stern, his gray eyes darkened into gunmetal. Before she could figure out what was happening, his lips crushed against hers with bruising force.

His hand fisted in Hermione's hair at the back of her neck, causing her to adjust the angle of her face. He trailed liquid fire kisses down her neck, then back up to her lips. He was frantic. Caressing every inch of her body he could get his hands on, and forcing his tongue into her mouth as she moaned into his. If Hermione's brain was functioning, she'd probably have realized that he was acting like a dam had finally broken, and feelings he had long hid from the world were now free to spill out in waves. But her mind had gone blank.

The excitement grew when he pushed her to lie down on the sofa, and covered her body with his. He smelled like male in every sense of the word; aftershave and fireplace smoke with a little bit of bergamot. She hungrily took in every bit of him; the softness of his blonde tresses, to the firmness of his forearms.

Draco didn't realize he had unbuttoned his shirt until he felt her hands reach inside to touch his chest. She shoved his shirt off his shoulders, never breaking the kiss. He started to work on her clothes next. She was out of her blouse before she could say Avada Kadavra.

Hermione felt the warmness of his naked chest upon hers, and panic started to form in her mind. What was she doing? How far had she let this go? Draco noticed that she had gone rigid in his embrace, and he broke the kiss to see her scarlet face looking alarmingly back at him.

She didn't know what to say to him. _Sorry I kissed you? Sorry I led you on?_ Somehow she didn't think that would go over well.

"What are we doing?" She asked him a moment later. He looked to be seriously considering her question, as if he didn't really know himself. He slowly got off of her, but not leaving his place beside her on the sofa.

They sat like that for a moment trying to catch their breath, and discerning what they had just been about to do. She placed her blouse back on silently, and briefly wondered what he was thinking as she tried to read his face. They said that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and that was usually true, but not pertaining to Draco Malfoy. You could never read his thoughts on his face.

"It's late," he finally said, never looking at her face. She was stunned at his dismissal, and blinked back the tears that had formed at his icy tone. Hermione wanted to get away from him, she was suddenly embarrassed. Draco didn't bother to get up as he summoned a house elf to see Hermione out.

She felt hurt and resentful. Before she left the room with a tiny house elf that Draco had called Teeny, she looked back to where Draco was sitting and caught a glimpse of his unguarded face. What she saw she felt she'd never forget: loneliness so prominent she established it had probably always been there, but she just never realized it. Then abruptly it all made sense. She knew exactly how he felt, because she felt the same way. Desolate, abandoned, and uncherished.

Oh he put on a good act, indeed. He ran around town with different women every night of the week, convincing everyone that he could have anyone he wanted, that he wasn't alone. But she saw straight through his act, and her heart broke for him. An only child who had grown up isolated from the rest of the world, always being held at arm's length.

Why hadn't she seen it before? It was so obvious. She should have seen it at Hogwarts when he lashed out at everyone around him because at home, he was feeling forgotten. Or during the war when he tried everything he could to make his father proud, almost getting himself killed. Or even this, right now, going against his entire lifetime of beliefs to gain a little bit of genuine attention from her, a mudblood.

She suddenly felt the need to confront him. Right now. "Draco!" She shouted, momentarily surprising herself, and also him. Had she just called him by his first name? She'd said his first name before, of course, but never to his face.

He looked at her in disbelief for a moment before his mask of coldness was firmly put back into place. She walked back to his side, losing the little bit of courage she had a moment ago. What was she to say now? What if she was wrong? No, she was sure she was right. "Kiss me," she ordered.

And he did. In two strides he was up and molding his body to hers. She didn't know when she had completely surrendered herself to Draco Malfoy, but it felt so…so _right_. She wanted it to feel wrong, because wrong was easier. Wrong was uncomplicated. But wrong didn't make her feel so good, so wanted.

Her knees felt weak as she clung to him for dear life, both of them traveling down a road to which there was no return. Nothing could stop what would happen next.

A/N:

Hello readers! The first few chapters will come quickly as they're already written. I've just been going through them for the first time in many years to check for mistakes but I'm only human. Please review if you feel so inclined! Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione was in a very peculiar predicament, indeed. Had it been anyone else, she wouldn't have had any intention of leaving the very moment ecstasy ended, however, as it were, she was lying beside a naked man, whom just hours before was her childhood bully, feeling restless, and awkward beyond belief.

The reason for staying in his bed hours after the pleasure had ebbed escaped her. Part of her was curious as to what would happen now that he had gotten what he wanted from her. The other part wanted, no needed, to know what had caused her to be so foolish as to surrender herself to Draco Malfoy, body and soul.

So she stayed. Her eyelids were heavy, and her body spent, but she was fully awake. Not a chance of sleep tonight. Not with him beside her. And he hadn't slept a bit either, she was certain, for his breathing continued to be erratic. So the awkwardness prevailed long into the wee morning hours, neither one willing to discuss or discern what had happened between then only hours previous.

Hermione's memories drifted in and out of the moments they had shared in this very same bed. How rough, and yet ardent his attention to her had been. How his physicality had impressed her fingers as she fervently ran her hands over his back. How Draco's face had been serious and hard, and his jaw showed how he fought for restraint. Knowing hands, and confident guidance. Skin on skin. Shocks of vulnerability one after another. She thought that perhaps it had been one of the most amazing nights of her entire life.

Then the moments turned long, and too real. Pleasure did not obscure the truth now. She thought he would ask her to leave to spare them both the uncompromising reality that assaulted her in the aftermath. Yet, he stayed silent.

As Draco lay in his darkened bedroom suite, wrapped up in his silk green sheets, he was feeling a combination of elation and terror. He had had his fair share of morning afters, to be sure. Yet, he never ever brought a woman to his bed. That was just too personal for him. Now not only had he brought Granger to his bed, but he had allowed her to remain there, even now. Last night he hadn't been thinking of anything aside from shagging Granger. He had uncharacteristically acted like a bumbling teenager in his haste to bed her. Losing all control over himself. And now he didn't know what to say, or do.

Any moment his mother would call on him to explain his reasons for using violence on a prominent pureblooded classmate in front of everyone at the Ministry of Magic. Then his father would demand an explanation for allowing a mudblood to enter his private library, especially one such as Hermione Granger. The Malfoys claimed to have changed their ways, however Draco knew behind closed doors, they were as closed-minded to muggle-borns as they ever were.

No answers would be forthcoming though. He couldn't even begin to answer them for himself, let alone to anyone else. Last night was far from anything he could ascertain. The only thing he knew for certain was that if it were up to him (which it was not), he would do everything in his power to make sure it happened again.

He listened to Hermione breathing beside him, and could almost feel her lamentation. He didn't dare turn over to gaze upon her beautiful face for knowing he'd lose all inhibitions at the sight of her perplexed countenance. However, fate had different intentions. This couldn't go on any longer. She sighed deeply, letting all of her frustration out in a single breath.

Draco knew there was no time like the present, so he rolled over to face her. When he was finally face to face, all reasoning absconded. The rising sun trickled over her unruly hair and long eyelashes, highlighting the auburn streaks in each. Her face was flushed with remaining vulnerability, accentuating the light freckles across her nose.

Just when he thought she'd merely stare at him silently forever, her Gryffindor courage swelled. "I think, perhaps it's time for me to depart," she admitted, her voice gravelly from lack of use.

Draco was unresponsive for a moment as he thought of something else to say beside what his astonished mind wished. Why had she stayed so long if she had wished to leave? Hermione took his silence as encouragement, and she sat up and began to dress in the shadows of his room. Draco continued to hold his tongue for fear of losing all hindrance, and begging her to stay.

When at last she was finished dressing, she grabbed her wand and appeared distraught for a moment. "Should I simply try, on my own, to locate the exit, or would you be so kind as to show me out?" Her voice full of rebuke, eluding to the fact that she might crack at any moment.

Draco pulled back the silky green sheet that covered his nudity, and Hermione let out a small gasp, to which he smirked. "Well aren't we falsely modest this morning, Granger?"

She frowned at his statement, but said nothing in return. He didn't bother covering himself up as he walked to the wardrobe to pull out black dress robes. He dressed silently, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione stole glances at his face as he dressed, unable to evaluate what he was thinking.

Just as he was buttoning up his trousers, there was a firm knock at his bedroom door. Hermione flinched, drawing her wand up instinctively, her eyes flashing with horror. Draco put his finger to his lips to silence her, and walked to his door, absent a shirt.

Hermione stepped a few meters back into the shadows, and listened intently to the sound of Draco's mother's silky voice full of disapproval on the other side of the door. She was reprimanding him for sleeping so late.

"Your father and I intend to speak with you immediately. I'm sure you're aware of what this pertains to," she insisted. Hermione didn't hear Draco's reply, and assumed he'd merely nodded his head. "For Merlin's sake, Draco, what has gotten into you lately?"

"Do calm down, mother. I'll be down shortly to breakfast," Draco evaded. His mother wasn't eager to leave, it seemed.

"Join us in the west wing drawing room directly after your breakfast, and befit us with an explanation to your recent atrocious behavior," she added demandingly, and then Hermione could hear the bedroom door close a moment after.

She didn't dare leave her hiding place for fear that Narcissa had joined them in the room, instead of leaving. Draco's footsteps were heard making his way to the wardrobe, where he continued to dress silently.

This time his back was towards her. She sensed a coldness to him that hadn't previously been there, but didn't question it. Her mind was too busy racing. Did his mother know what had transpired last night between them? Is that why they demanded to see him this morning? Hermione wasn't sure if she were scared of them finding out as much as she was worried for what would happen to Draco if they had.

She walked over to him, standing directly behind him as he smoothed out his robes. When he finally turned around, he was the same old Malfoy she was used to. Impassive countenance, and arrogant demeanor. If he was surprised at how close she was, he didn't show it.

"I shall see you out now," he drawled. His cold tone was like a slap in the face. She shouldn't be hurt by his behavior, after all, this was Draco Malfoy, and thinking he had changed just because of one blissful night, was absurd. (And she had also demanded to leave but a moment ago, but that was beside the point). But when he had allowed her to witness his undoing at the moment of rapture last night, she felt certain that he wouldn't have dared let anyone else see him this way. Every kiss alluded to secrets his body had been keeping for way too long. Every touch held affection in such a degree that it was baffling. She felt so incredibly brainless at her imprudent behavior that tears threatened to fall freely from her eyes.

She swiped at her cheeks, determined to hide her true feelings in front of this man. Get a grip, Hermione, she pleaded with herself. In the back of her mind, she knew that it wouldn't mean anything to him in the morning. She knew that nothing could come of their intimate night of passion. But then why did she feel so betrayed now? Because you gave him more than your body last night, her mind reeled. No. She'd take back what she freely gave him, and leave with her dignity.

Draco studied Hermione's face keenly, and what he found made him feel something in his chest that he hadn't felt since the fateful day in this very house, when his Aunt Bella tortured her while he was unable to do a single thing about it: guilt. Any other woman, and he'd have been all too eager to set her straight about his feelings. Except, he wasn't straight about his feelings. Not anymore. He was sure that even yesterday he would have said, with some certainty, that he could have shagged Granger and felt nothing; that her novelty would wear off the morning after. But at this exact moment, he wasn't at all certain of anything.

Hermione gave him an impatient look, and he stretched out his hands for her to take, which she did instantly, and then closed her eyes tight anticipating their departure. The feeling of her hand in his made him almost sigh with content, and all thoughts of dissapparating vanished. The wonders that such a small hand could inflict made his mind abruptly return to last night, when she had ordered him to kiss her, and afterwards, when he had apparated her to his bedroom intending to vehemently bring them to euphoria.

Granger's body was pure heaven. It made him almost believe that God was merciful, for he indeed deserved far less than her. Draco knew immediately that he had wanted her for far longer than he realized. Any other time, and he'd have showed her exactly what his skills could bring her to, over and over again. But he had lost all control over his patience, and took to fisting his green silk sheets in order to restrain himself.

Their love-making was as volatile as expected between two enemies. It wasn't gentle, or tender in any way. When Hermione had surrendered herself to him, he had lost as control. She was anything but what he had figured she'd be. Instead of innocent and quiet, she'd been loud and untamed. It drove him insane to the point that he regressed back to an over-eager adolescent.

"Well?" Granger demanded his attention once again. He sighed, and dissapparated to the front parlor. When she opened her eyes once again, they regarded him with animosity once more. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to beg her forgiveness, and then take them straight back to his room where he'd never come out again. However, that couldn't be. He knew it as well as she did. They weren't meant to be together. Not anymore than what they shared last night anyways.

He let go of her fingers, and she walked out the door without pretense. Just like that, Granger had trampled on his ego. He'd say his heart, but he didn't think he had one, not after Granger had stolen it from him many hours ago.

XXXXXXXXXX

She was late for work. No time to change clothes, no time to owl anyone. She flooed straight to the Ministry, avoiding everyone's eyes as they took in her despondent demeanor and disheveled appearance. She locked herself in her office, determined not to see anyone today, if she could help it.

As if God had a sense of humor, someone knocked on her office door before she could even sit down. She wondered briefly if she could simply ignore them and they'd go away. No such luck would befall her today, however, as the person knocked once more.

She opened it to find a bespectacled wizard that just so happened to be the one person she had dreaded seeing this morning.

Harry Potter looked at her apprehensively. "Hermione, where have you been? Ginny and I have been trying to get a hold of you all night. Goodness, are those the same clothes you wore yesterday?"

She steadfastly avoided the urge to roll her eyes, or cry, and instead motioned for him to follow her inside. When he had, she closed them in, fruitlessly trying to come up with some sort of lie. Ignoring the last question, she began, "what do you mean, Harry? I was at home," she lied.

He gave her a withering look. "Oh please, as if that wasn't the first place we checked. Come off it, Hermione, we were really worried! And seeing as you're still in the same clothes from yesterday, I'd assume you've either spent the night somewhere else or completely lost your mind. Now which is it? I'm inclined to think the former."

"Harry, please, I'm fine-," she began, but Harry was in one of his moods, which led her to believe he already knew exactly where she had been.

"Does this have to do with Malfoy? Because Ron told me that he had last seen you with him, and I'm starting to wonder if you have lost your mind-," now it was Hermione's turn to interrupt her best friend.

"Harry!" She beseeched, "trust me, when have I ever made mistakes?" Harry didn't look assured, but calmed down some degree by her reasoning.

"It's not you I don't trust, Hermione," she tried to protest, but Harry waved a hand in deterrence. "Listen to me! Perhaps you think this isn't my business, but I assure you, Malfoy is my business. You may think he's changed, and it may be true in some regards, but he hasn't changed for the better. In fact, I have received a missive just this morning about calling him in on assault charges. Why he was punching another wizard is beyond even my comprehension. However, several witnesses claim he did just that. How was I not to worry that he had done something to you?"

"Harry, I can explain that. His reasons are completely placid. Blaise was harassing him, I assure you. I have in a good authority that Blaise had provoked him," Hermione appealed.

"Whose authority? And what could provoke Draco Malfoy to punch another wizard?" Harry queried suspiciously.

"He mentioned yesterday that Blaise had called me a mudblood bitch," she explained after a moment's hesitation.

Harry's eyes widened, "indeed? And why would he do such a thing?"

"I don't know, honestly. But I believe him, I really do."

"I have also been informed that he was spotted by an Auror at the Gala pointing his wand at Blaise. And you still expect me to believe he's changed?"

Hermione wanted nothing more than to scream at Harry. Why couldn't he see that Draco was different? He punched his friend defending her, for Merlin's sake! If that weren't sufficient evidence that he had changed for the better, than she didn't think anything would be. However, she had wondered herself why she had seen Malfoy pointing his wand at Blaise at the Gala, so instead kept her mouth shut.

"Hermione, I implore you to tread cautiously. Be careful around Malfoy, or else you may be the next one he aims a wand at," Harry warned. She knew Harry hadn't meant that Malfoy would somehow outsmart her; he merely deduced that sometimes seduction led, even the smartest people, to lose good judgment.

He patted her on the shoulder affectionately. Hermione nodded in acknowledgement, and promised Harry she'd be careful, and that nothing was going on between them. He left her office looking a little less worried, but still suspicious.

Hermione spent the rest of the day trying to come up with some reason as to why she was defending Malfoy when, in fact, she had no reason to. She didn't know a thing about him, aside from what ecstasy he could bring her to in a matter of seconds, and that hardly qualified her as an expert to all things Malfoy.

XXXXXXXX

Draco's parents had been furiously trying to come up with a way to repair the damage that had been done yesterday for the last hour. He sat quietly in the leather chaise, trying to ignore the conversation entirely. Instead, his mind had been elsewhere.

Finally, his father's baleful voice broke him from his daydreams. "The road you're traveling, boy, is one that leads us all to ruin. You know as well as I do that I wouldn't let such a thing come to fruition. So I beg you to see the consequences if you so choose to continue your behavior." Draco didn't respond, for he knew exactly what his father meant by consequences. He'd lose everything and be out on the streets before he could say two words in his defense.

It was his mother's turn to criticize him, "Draco, what has happened to you? Hitting a wizard, with your_ fists_," she said the word as if it caused a bad taste in her mouth, "it's inconceivable! You need to fix this, immediately. I'm afraid, you've already done irreparable damage, what with these charges that Blaise has filed against you, I wouldn't be surprised if we couldn't talk ourselves out of this mess!" His father tried to calm his wife by assuring her that these charges could easily be taken care of.

Draco knew better than to say anything against his parents while he was being berated, so he continued to stay silent on the matter as they discussed plans to bribe a certain Ministry official on the Wizengamot, and call on the Zambini's as well.

Draco's mind wandered until the conversation took a different direction, and something his mother said caught his attention again, "Astoria was decent enough to accept my invitation to dinner tonight, albeit with slight reluctance. Which is to be expected in these circumstances. Regrettably, no one wants to be associated with people, such as us, while we're in the public's spotlight. I only hope that you're respectful to her this evening, as to not put off the match entirely."

At this point he couldn't stop himself from sneering, "Why would you invite her to dinner? I told you I didn't want to-," Draco realized his mistake too late. His father was standing up from his seat and throwing him a sizable glare that was enough to zip his lips, before he could even finish that remark.

"You've made it extraordinarily clear to us that you're not responsible enough to make a decent decision regarding which witch you take for a wife!" His father's composure was wilting. "It is within our rights to choose for ourselves, in this case, whom you will marry. The stupid deal you've struck is long over, seeing as how you cannot contain yourself for five bloody minutes!"

Draco didn't look at his father's face as he ended his assertion, but he could clearly deduce that it was wise to stay silent at this moment. He wasn't entirely surprised that his deal was up. Part of him knew that his parents would never have let him choose his own wife, not matter what.

"You will do whatever your mother says regarding Miss Greengrass, or see yourself forfeiting more than just your inheritance." His father swiftly walked out of the drawing room, leaving his declaration swirling about the room like a chilling draft.

Draco resigned himself to the fact that he'd be marrying Astoria Greengrass, as his mother blabbed on about preparing for the announcement in the Daily Prophet this weekend. But no matter what, he couldn't stop his mind from going back to a certain Gryffindor witch, and wondering how she would react to the news.

XXXXXXXX

The week had gone by unbelievably fast, and it was already the weekend. Hermione had an interesting week, to say the least. Ginny was absolutely aghast when she had relayed her the news of that fateful Monday night in which she had spent the night at Malfoy Manor. After her initial anxiety ebbed, she was more interested in the details of how this came about. To say Hermione was horrified over having to share the most intimate details about her and Malfoy, was an understatement. She was mortified.

But Ginny took it all in stride, gasping at the more carnal details, and whistling at the shocking ones. But in the end, she had begun to realize that Ginny was the only one who understood what she was going through. She was, after all, a female. So she could ascertain the mixed feelings Hermione was having about sleeping with Draco.

She hadn't seen Malfoy since that night, to which she thanked Merlin. She figured that if she had seen him, she'd probably have ran the opposite way, because something inside her was scared she'd grope him if she didn't. Every single waking moment (and some unawaken as well) was spent focused on Malfoy. She could think of nothing else.

Why hadn't he owled her? Did she want him to owl her? Why was it that every time she closed her eyes, she'd see his face overwhelmed with desire for her? Why was she reacting this way after only a single night with him? Did he feel the same way?

She had no answers for these questions, aside from the fact that that one single night was enough to turn her into a hot-blooded pool of longing whenever she thought on it. And it was often these days. She knew that seeing him again was unavoidable, and she didn't know any more if she wanted to avoid him at all.

As she sat in her kitchen mixing common ailment potions, she thought about taking things into her own hands. She'd owl him instead of waiting for him to do it. Just as she was taking out a quill and parchment, she heard a tapping noise. Suddenly she thought that maybe he did indeed owl her already and rushed to let the owl into her window.

Disappointment ensued when she realized it was only the Daily Prophet owl. After sighing in exasperation, and paying for the stupid newspaper, she set the paper down to read later. She had the parchment out, and was seated down to write to him, but her words failed her. What would she write? 'Hey, Malfoy I was wondering if you'd like to shag again soon?' Yeah right! Or what about 'I was wondering if you have thought about me, seeing as how I haven't stopped thinking about you?' She could never admit to that. That thought was enough for her to crumple up the parchment and Incendio it with her wand.

As she watched the parchment wither away to ashes, she silently admonished herself for actually thinking she had fallen for Malfoy. As if she could actually feel that way towards him. A feeling in which she had only felt one other time in her life, and she could see how well that had turned out (not very well, indeed).

That's when something on the Prophet had caught her attention, and she picked it up to read the Malfoy name printed on the front page. Turning to page 5 (the gossip section), there was a nice article on how Draco and Astoria Greengrass were officially engaged. Not only had Draco posed in a smiling photograph with Astoria, but he had also confirmed their engagement publicly. Hermione ripped the paper into shreds, and let out an exasperated scream that she was certain could be heard three floors above her own.


	6. Chapter 6

The weather had taken a turn for the worse lately. It had been snowing more than Draco could ever remember it had snowed before in late fall. Ice covered the roads and people generally didn't leave their homes if they didn't have to. Such was the case for him as well.

Not that he didn't want to leave, because he did; however, present company demanded that he stay here. His parents had not only invited Astoria to dinner, but they had endeavored to keep her close by him at all times. Which meant that he had to dine with her, read with her, and if his parents desired, sleep with her. He thanked Merlin that they hadn't gone that far, well not yet anyways. He knew it was only a matter of time though.

At one time he wouldn't have been very opposed to the idea of shagging a beautiful pureblooded witch, yet these days he couldn't even look upon her without nearly sneering with disgust. He barely treated her civilly as it was, (albeit cold civility). Back in Hogwarts, he had made the mistake of kissing her once when he was extremely drunk, and after that she acted like she fancied herself in love with him. This went on for a matter of three days before she had caught him with Tracey Davis, and nearly hexed her before Professor Snape had intervened. Since then, he had seen her almost every year at his parent's holiday parties, and he always caught her looking at him for longer than necessary, and touching him more than appropriate. He'd always looked at her like one pureblooded witch he couldn't simply shag and leave, which in Draco Malfoy's terms meant he avoided her whenever possible.

Presently, he was seated in the dining hall with his parents and Astoria. His mother was engrossed in conversation with the latter, discussing the most opportune dates for a wedding (Currently spring time). His father was absorbed behind a Daily Prophet. Which left him nothing to do besides silently fume over his predicament.

His parents had made him agree to an interview with the Daily Prophet on his engagement so every wizard in London would know that it was official this time. He was marrying a witch that he didn't like, or have any interest in knowing whatsoever. This made his mood extremely foul as of late.

He had barely touched his breakfast, and took to pushing it around on his plate instead. His mother darted glances over at him occasionally, hoping that he'd join in their conversation, however, he had no intention of talking about a wedding, even if it were his own. When his mother was finally fed up with his silence, she turned to him, "Draco, wouldn't it be lovely if we had the wedding in the spring time, that way the flowers wouldn't have to be transfigured, and we could comfortably conduct it out in the gardens?"

Both her and Astoria looked at him expectantly. Astoria looked somewhat giddy upon further inspection, and it made him seethe. She'd been walking around his house like she already was its mistress, and he didn't know how much more he could take before he ran away entirely. When his father actually peeked over his paper to assure he would answer, Draco hesitated no longer.

"Of course, mother," he said with the fakest sincerity he could muster with his father giving him a deathly glare.

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, they turned back to each other and his father's countenance was shielded once again by the Political section of the paper.

Draco couldn't bear it any longer, "Please excuse me, I have business to attend to this morning in London."

At Draco's sudden interruption, his parents and fiancé regarded him with curiosity as he stood from the table. Narcissa was the most interested, "Business? This early?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it's urgent."

His mother pursed her lips once she realized her son wouldn't relent, but then her expression turned smug when she added, "Why doesn't Astoria escort you to town? I'm sure it will serve both the purpose of public affirmation, and acquiring some fresh air." When Draco gritted his teeth and sputtered a few times, his mother turned towards his father for assistance. "Don't you agree, Lucius?"

"Yes, Draco, I'm certain your mother's correct in her judgment. Miss Greengrass hasn't left the house in some time, and certainly would appreciate some time alone with her husband to be." That confirmed it. He reluctantly nodded his head in acquiescence, and Astoria hopped up from the table to follow him out of the room.

He didn't bother looking at her as he walked directly to the front parlor, wrapping his coat around himself, and then his scarf and hat as well. She summoned her dark red coat from her room and put it on beside him. He waited for her to finish preparing for the cold weather in silence. All the while she was giving him sidelong glances as if she wished to interact with him but didn't have the courage.

"Ready?" He asked her with cold indifference. She nodded her head, and followed him out of the wide double doors and out into the snowy front lawn. Once outside, the full impact of the cold struck him breathless. It was absolutely freezing, and suddenly, he regretted lying about having business to attend to this morning. For he did not have any such business, he just wished to get away from this house and its inhabitants. And part of him (a very small part) hoped to run into Hermione, since it had been a couple weeks since he'd seen her last. Now that his psudeo-fiance was to tag along, he wished to avoid the former Gryffindor witch entirely.

Astoria took his hand in hers, which brought Draco back to present reality. All instincts told him to drop her hand, yet he ignored it this time and dissapparated them to a secluded alley in the deserted part of London.

They walked out into the practically empty sidewalk, after casting a warming charm to their coats, side by side. The freezing wind and dense snow had kept the muggles from venturing outside this morning. Draco and Astoria silently headed in the direction of the Ministry, the former wondering how he could manage to ditch the latter.

Just when he thought he could easily escape talking to her for their entire venture, she began in a slightly casual tone, "So what is it you do at the Ministry? I've always wondered."

He never looked at her when he replied coolly, "I'm afraid I'm not at leisure to discuss such things to you. And, besides, they'd only confuse your meager mind, I'm sure." Now that his parents weren't around, he was free to treat Astoria however he wished, which in this case was with severe unadulterated dislike.

Astoria wasn't very happy with his animosity, but pretended as if he hadn't aggrieved her just now, and continued walking at his side. That was part of the reason he didn't like her: she had no courage what so ever, and merely let him insult her without qualm. _Since when did such a thing matter in a woman? _He quizzed himself. Her voice continued despite his mind's interruption. "It's uncommonly cold for this time of year, don't you agree?" She didn't bother waiting for his reply; "Mrs. Malfoy certainly is astute by suggesting we should hold the wedding when the weather is warmer."

As if mentioning the wedding was the equivalent to lighting a fuse, Draco immediately stopped in the middle of the street to go off like a bomb. "Let me get one thing straight between us," he seethed mere centimeters from her face. "You're a foolish little girl if you think I will ever feel _anything _aside from disgust towards you. You're selfish, spoilt, and incredibly annoying. I'd much rather spend my entire life alone than married to the likes of you!" She looked positively horrified. "However, our parents have decided we're to combine our families, and I see no other way around it presently. Now, that being said, things will go much more smoothly if you stay out of my way." He turned back around and continued walking away from her as if he hadn't just had a conniption right in the middle of the sidewalk.

He didn't turn to see if she stopped following him, she could go back to the Manor for all he cared. _And tell mother and father what I've just done? _He thought to himself. No, he couldn't let her do that. They had made it clear he was to appear publicly with her, and appear _happy_ with her. Treating her like shit was obviously going to have to be a private matter, it seemed.

He stopped walking and turned back to where he had left her. She looked so pathetic at this point standing in the middle of the sidewalk that he didn't really have to even try to feel bad for her. "Look, Astoria, it's no surprise that I'm not happy about this arrangement. But there's no other way around it. We simply have to get through this period of time before the wedding without killing each other, and then you're free to do whatever it is you do. I didn't mean what I said a moment ago, any bloke would be a fool not to want to marry a pureblooded witch like you." That was as close to a compliment as he could afford at that moment, because it was true. He was a fool not to want to marry her. She came from a long line of purebloods, and wasn't bad to look at either, which was why Draco had agreed to marry her in the first place. She's everything Draco was expected to marry. Yet, she rubbed him the wrong way.

She gave him a small smile, which made him certain she'd forgiven him, for the time being anyways. In fact, she'd have to forgive him, otherwise she'd lose the little bit of ground she had over him entirely. And he was sure her dignity wouldn't allow another public scandal such as a second broken engagement.

He lifted his arm for her to take, and they walked down the sidewalk at a much easier pace. It wasn't long before they were within the crowded streets of Whitehall. There was something about the secret entrance to the Ministry that attracted muggles, however ignorantly, to it. He had to wait a few moments for one such muggle to determine the phone was not in working order before him and Astoria could enter it. (After the muggle politely pointed out to not bother trying that phone box, whatever _that_ meant).

Once inside the Ministry it was much easier to falsify their relationship, for what's a show without its audience? People seemed very interested in how they would portray themselves; they watched carefully as Draco and Astoria made their way across the Atrium hand in hand. He even snuck in a kiss on the cheek as they waited for a lift, and smiled at her as fondly as he could. The people around them ate it up, whispering furiously to the person beside them, and stealing cautious glances at the couple.

Immediately after they exited the lift at the DMLE, Draco dropped the act. It wasn't for the lack of interest, or people to watch, for there were certainly people in the DMLE interested in their relationship. However, the reason Draco had abruptly let go of Astoria's hand and lost his façade, like someone had hit him with an Imperio, was because a familiar witch was staring directly into his eyes from across the department. She immediately stopped what she was doing as everyone else had. Gray eyes met chocolate brown for the briefest of moments and Draco feared he'd lose all accountability over his actions if he didn't look away. Yet he couldn't. She looked so forlorn.

Hermione Granger was the most interested in their show, to be sure. Not bothering to cover it up as the other witches and wizards had done on the way across the atrium a moment ago. She looked bewildered and furious for but a second and then turned away to hurry in the other direction. Did he dare follow after her?

Draco paused to watch her go, and Astoria's eyes searched the room for what it was that had startled her fiancé. Oblivious to what had transpired between them, Astoria was back to searching his countenance for any evidence as to why he was standing in everyone's way with a look of apprehension on his usually statuesque face.

"Darling?" Astoria inquired after a moment had passed. He snapped back to attention, and gave her the most disgusted glare she had seen yet. She actually flinched.

"Wait here," he ordered unkindly. He didn't bother waiting for her reply as he rushed across the DMLE in search of the bushy-haired witch he longed to speak with. He looked down the hallway, and into office windows, but she had disappeared.

Not willing to give up just yet, he headed back in the direction of her office, and found her office door closed and locked. He knocked twice. No answer. "Granger, open the bloody door," Draco demanded. Still no answer. He knocked harder this time. Didn't she know he could Alohomora the door right open? But did he dare risk what would happen if he started a scene in front of Granger's office with Astoria standing at the lifts? No, he knew it would be better to leave her alone this time.

Draco cursed under his breath and went back to Astoria. He yanked her hand in the direction of the lifts, but before they could make it one step, someone called to Draco from behind them. He glanced back to see his childhood adversary beckoning him over. A moment passed while Draco wondered what Harry Potter could possibly want from him. Then it hit him. Of course Hermione had told her best friend what had transpired between them.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you will please accompany me to my office," Harry demanded in a tone that held no room for consideration. But he wasn't Draco Malfoy if he didn't cross his arms defiantly over his chest and allow Harry a moment of wondering if he'd comply.

Draco knew this was the head of the department, and no one spoke to him this way, especially ex-death eaters, but he was angry at what Granger had done moments ago, and his anger needed a vent. "And what, pray tell, is this about?" He questioned arrogantly.

Harry walked closer to Draco and Astoria, and people began to watch this conversation eagerly. "Don't test my patience, Malfoy, it will only make things much more difficult for you."

Draco turned to Astoria, who was glaring at Harry Potter beside him, and kissed her cheek affectionately. "Astoria, darling, don't wait around for me. Do tell mother and father I won't be home for lunch." She smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

A moment later Harry was leading Draco to his office, which just so happened to be down the hall from Hermione's. Once inside, Draco was in awe of just how much Harry had acquired by being a department head. A spacious office (not as big as his, though large in Ministry regards) with comfortable squishy sofas across from his large oak desk and a giant fireplace that was currently alight with a warming fire.

"Sit," Harry demanded, and he did. "Drink?" Harry questioned lightly from behind his desk. He held up a tumbler full of what looked to be Brandy.

"Do I appear a fool to you, Potter?" Draco wondered in an ascetic tone. Harry shrugged and gulped the Brandy smoothly. "Don't bother with pleasantries, why am I here?"

"Did you expect to go about hitting people and get away with it?" Harry interrogated. Draco frowned in confusion.

"Yes, actually," Draco stated. "I did, indeed. I assume Blaise maintained that it was unprovoked, then?" He scoffed. He didn't doubt Blaise had claimed to be innocent, but hearing Harry Potter allege that he'd instigated a fight with him in front of everyone at the Ministry was pushing it.

"Yes, he did. However, I have heard on your behalf that it was indeed provoked. What say you?" Harry eyed him sternly.

"I don't have to elucidate such nonsense. We both know you can't arrest me for punching him, not unless I used magic, which I did not. So, either you take it up with Scotland Yard, or you quit pretending I'm in trouble." Harry's eyebrows rose at such arrogance. Draco knew the law very well, and he also knew Harry couldn't inform Scotland Yard without bringing attention to the Ministry, which Harry wouldn't do in a million years. Especially over such a trivial thing as Draco punching Blaise Zambini, who deserved it anyways. But Harry knew the laws better than anyone.

"No, indeed I cannot. Very rarely does one wizard punch another. Cases like this were not what our founders had in mind when they envisioned magical law enforcement, and the policies that govern us all. However, such charges _do_ fall under the Ministerial Decree No. 223/B of 1999, in which your behavior_ is_ punishable. Therefore, I must insist you pay a fine of 1,000 galleons for your application of aggression onto another wizard," Harry handed Draco a slip of parchment underlying his charges and citations. "And what have you to say about threatening him at the Gala?" Harry tilted his head, and gave Draco a very uncharacteristic smirk.

"I'd like to see you prove it, Potter," Draco implored. Harry continued to smirk, and Draco wondered if he had something else up his sleeve.

"Do see the cashier on the way out to rectify your transgression," he casually stated. Draco glared coldly at him from across the desk until he deemed the conversation over, and stood from the sofa. "Oh and Malfoy?" He turned back to regard Potter once more. "Stay away from Hermione. She deserves far more than your pathetic mind games."

Draco turned back around and continued out of his office and didn't stop until he was at the lifts. He was fuming. If he weren't at the Ministry right now, he'd probably have hexed Potter right then and there. He knew Potter was just trying to get to him. He didn't doubt for a second that he knew exactly what was going on between him and Granger. The stupid boy-who-lived-to-annoy-him was merely doing this out of revenge against his friend. Well he'd be damned if he let Harry Potter work him up! He took a few deep breaths as the lift ascended to the Atrium, where the cashiers were located. When it stopped, he was all calm and stoic once again.

XXX

"Why, Ginny?_ Why?_" Hermione whined to her best friend over dinner. She was certain that seeing Draco again wouldn't be anything like the situation with Ron had been two years ago, yet it had. When she saw Draco with Astoria at the Ministry earlier that morning, she felt exactly the same as when she'd seen Ron with Lavender the first time after their break up: furious and betrayed. But her best friend couldn't answer her why she felt this way. They hadn't dated, and this certainly wasn't a break up.

"The only explanation is that you did, indeed, believe Malfoy had changed," Ginny explained very matter of fact, as she sipped her glass of chardonnay. "But don't ask me why, because I have no idea as to how you could possibly believe a dragon could change his scales."

"It's just in my nature to see the good in everyone. I simply fell for his adolescent games, and imprudently believed something I had no significant affirmation to suspect. However, today he's made it extremely clear he had been using me in place of Astoria all along. It was a mistake, one that I justified many times in my head, but had no real reason to. It's not as if he ever admitted to having feelings for me."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders, "However you wish to look at this, the consequences are the same. He obviously _hasn't _changed in the slightest. It was all a game to him. Think about it: you didn't want him, and he was accustomed to witches falling at his feet, right? Well, then it's obvious that you were simply something his ego wouldn't let him refuse. You kissed him at the Gala, and so he felt he had a chance after all. It's simple, really. He was with Astoria all along, don't you see?"

The former Gryffindor sighed deeply. "Yes, you're absolutely right." Draco hadn't ever actually said he wasn't engaged, just implied that he wasn't. And she believed him! Lately she had been making stupid mistakes wherever Malfoy was concerned. It had to stop.

Hermione had definitely acknowledged everything Ginny had said previously. It was all too obvious from a third party's point of view, but Ginny hadn't seen the look on his face that night in the library. He looked so lonely. You can't fake that sort of look, she was sure. Furthermore, he had sent her away, and she was the one who had come back and initiated what ultimately led to their relationship furthering.

"What did you expect from him anyways? He's a Malfoy, and Malfoys don't fall in love with anyone who isn't a stuck up, pureblooded slag. And I assure you, you are not even close. Why don't you find yourself a nice guy who isn't using you for his own selfish reasons? Someone who you could actually have a future with? What about Stephen? What happened between you two?" Ginny wondered as she gulped down the rest of her drink.

"Who? Oh, you mean Cornfoot? He's not my type," Hermione replied impassively, when in actuality she was barely suppressing a grimace.

"Your type? What, is he too nice?" Ginny grinned. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, it's just that he's always talking about the same things over and over. Quite boring if you ask me. I just knew by as early as the first date that I'd end up dying of old age with nothing said between us besides how brilliant it is to be an Auror, or how depressing the Norwegian Minister of Magic has become in his old age."

"So he enjoys his job, nothing to be upset about there," Ginny joked.

"It's not just that. There's something about him that just makes me feel as if we wouldn't get along," Hermione insisted. "Like when he touches me, it feels wrong for some reason."

"But then why did you go on a second date?"

"I just thought it was unfair to judge him without first getting to know him, you know?"

Ginny agreed with her, and then dropped the Stephen subject. She then returned to the Malfoy one instead. After discussing it for a while more, Ginny departed for home, and Hermione was left to dwell upon it alone once more. Although her best friend had made her see reason where she had previously not, Hermione couldn't help but think that Malfoy had accidentally allowed her to witness a part of him that no one else had seen. She was certain he had changed. But what did it matter anyways? He was to marry someone else.

But she was sure something else was going on. Surely, he didn't love Astoria. If he did, then he had indeed just slept with her because his ego insisted he did, and not because he wanted anything else to do with her.

Well, then it was settled. She was glad to be out of Malfoy's sights, and hopefully could forget this even happened. With time, maybe she could even be with a guy without comparing it with the one night in heaven she had experienced with Malfoy. _Wishful thinking_, she acknowledged.

XXXXXXX

A few weeks had passed and it was nearing mid-December. Soon it would be Christmas. Hermione couldn't seem to muster up the happy thoughts surrounded with Christmas anymore. Not since her break up with Ron anyways. Christmas used to be a happy affair. Now it just made her feel lonelier than ever.

She used to spend it with the Weasleys at Ottery St. Catchpole along with her parents, enjoying the company of good friends and her boyfriend. But now, it was awkward to be around any of the Weasleys, except for Ginny of course. The past two Christmases were either spent with her parents entirely, or with Harry and Ginny in the morning (after they had opened their gifts at the Burrow), and then her parents for dinner.

This year, she assumed, would be much of the same. Lavender was now entitled to spend Christmas morning with the Weasleys, instead of her. Each day Christmas drew nearer, she felt more and more irritable.

Unbeknown to Hermione, Draco was in a similar predicament, even though people surrounded him for the Christmas season. The Malfoys celebrated Christmas a little differently than most people did. They spent the days leading up to Christmas with all the pureblooded families in England, having party after party. People were always coming and going here at the Manor during the winter season. But, Christmas Day in the Malfoy household was a private affair.

Draco was currently at one such winter party, sulking in a corner, per usual. He hated these parties, and instead took to drinking heavily and ending the night in someone else's bed. Several young witches came to greet him in hopes of persuading him into being the one honored with such intentions (with no such luck). His mother wouldn't let any such thing mature beyond simple flirting. He watched her from across the room. She had a playful attitude and a friendly smile about her, that Draco couldn't help narrowing his eyes at the woman who bore him, as she excused herself to walk in his direction.

He watched as his mother glanced at the other side of the room to see Astoria was chatting happily to fellow Slytherin Hogwarts alumni, waving her left hand around and pretending she wasn't trying to bring their attention to her engagement ring. He rolled his eyes. If it were up to him, she'd never be wearing his great grandmother Irma's wedding ring.

"Draco, would you please try to appear happy with all these people around?" His mother chided once she was next to him. He turned his face up to meet her eyes.

"All's well that ends well. Right mother?" He sneered. She pretended to not hear him as she handed him a tumbler full of amber liquid.

"Have a drink and lighten up. It's a party for Merlin's sake."

"Sorry, I must decline, as I already have a drink," Draco brandished the drink he'd been sipping in the corner for the last hour.

"Yes, but I've made this especially for you, now don't be rude," Narcissa implored.

He sighed, and took the drink that she held out for him. He gulped the entire contents in one shot, dribbling a few drops down his chin, and then turned back to his mother, grinning widely as if to say 'happy?'. She frowned at his unruly display, but said nothing about it.

"Now, Mr. Rousseau looks ill-attended, why don't you go make yourself useful." He didn't have time to argue before she turned and walked away.

Draco gritted his teeth and stood up. He sauntered over to Mr. Rousseau who was indeed looking almost as bored as Draco had been a moment ago. He cursed his mother for making him talk to his old French tutor. What the bloody hell did she expect him to talk about with his old French tutor that he hadn't talked to in over ten years?

When he finally reached him, Mr. Rousseau glanced up and gave Draco a scathing look that brought him back to a time when he had to spend countless hours with this old, cynical man. "Bonsoir, Monsieur Rousseau. Enjoying the party?" Draco said in artificial civility, feeling the warmth in his chest from the firewhiskey.

Mr. Rousseau was always invited to the Malfoy's winter parties, not only because he was Draco's tutor, but because he was also an old friend of the Blacks. He had tutored several of them throughout the ages. His mother considered him the best teacher of not only French, but also refinement. Draco couldn't see how a surly man such as him could know anything about refinement.

Mr. Rousseau's withering skin bunched in creases around his mouth as he frowned. "As likely as I'll ever, I assume." Draco hesitated to say anymore. If his old teacher didn't feel particularly chatty, then there was nothing for him to do about it. He stood awkwardly next to Mr. Rousseau for a few moments in silence, watching everyone else around the room trying to catch someone's eye.

It worked, however to his lamentation, for Astoria had caught his eyes, and walked over, seemingly to annoy him with her presence. Her blonde hair was twisted up into a chignon, with a few curls hanging loose around her ears. She wore long dark green dress robes, and silk gloves. She looked rapturous to anyone who looked upon her. However, Draco only felt irritated by her.

"Darling, there you are," she patted his forearm, glancing back and forth between him and Mr. Rousseau with a big smile on her face. When Draco didn't seem inclined to introduce them, she prodded, "And who is this charming acquaintance?"

"Monsieur Rousseau, my French tutor," Draco replied in an even tone, masking his annoyance. "Monsieur Rousseau, My fiancé."

"Ah, Bonsoir Monsieur Rousseau. Bon à vous rencontrer," she fluently added. Draco wasn't impressed, and neither was Mr. Rousseau, not surprisingly. He gave her a curt nod of his large fat head, but said nothing more.

After a moment of silence, Astoria continued, this time to Draco, "I was wondering if you would like to join me? Pansy has been dying to see you all night."

Draco had been avoiding Pansy lately because she always seemed to be around Blaise this evening. Blaise had become somewhat subdued about the incident that had transpired at the Ministry a few months ago. However, he still gave him venomous glares that hinted to approaching malevolence. He presumed his parents had something to do with that.

Any other time and he'd have been all too happy to be released from his old tutor's grip, but now he rather liked the wrinkly fool. Or at least he pretended to.

"And leave Monsieur Rousseau? But we had been getting reacquainted a moment ago, and it seems rude to be dragged away from him so suddenly," Draco was all false admonition. Mr. Rousseau didn't even bother to look at him when he mentioned his name. Instead he sipped his firewhiskey silently as if totally alone in the room.

Astoria smiled sweetly, "Not to worry. I'll bring Pansy over here; I'm sure Monsieur Rousseau won't mind. Just wait right here." She said before he could argue. Draco cursed his bad luck and irritating fiancé under his breath.

Lately he'd been treating her much more civilly, to his chagrin. His parents had been watching him like a hawk, threatening him whenever he so much as sneered in her direction. Fortunately, with all these prominent people around he was toeing the line rather expertly. However, Astoria falsely believed he was sincere in his behavior, and thought it encouragement to boldly display her affections whenever possible.

She returned with his old girlfriend in tow, and two drinks in hand, which she promptly split between herself and him a moment later. His fiancé looked awfully happy to be standing in between them, which struck him as rather odd. Astoria had always had an atrocious grudge against Pansy. Back in Hogwarts, they couldn't even be in the common room together without a catfight ensuing.

"Draco! Darling! Look who's come to see you!" Astoria sing-songed.

'_Oh, now I get it'_, Draco thought silently, as he gulped the glass of firewhiskey Astoria had given him. '_What a little devious witch. She's rubbing it in Pansy's face!'_

Draco smirked at his ex, who regarded Astoria with as much indignation as he did. "Pansy, so good to see you," he changed his face to look as seductive as he could. Pansy, as smart as she was, caught on immediately and looked to be silently rejoicing at having an opportunity to anger Astoria.

"_Draky-poo_, how I've missed you!" She embraced him and stayed that way until Astoria cleared her throat.

"You look amazing, Pansy. Have you changed your hair?" Draco flirted.

"Yes, actually. It's shorter than before," Pansy giggled. "Do you like it, then?"

"Supremely. Why if I weren't engaged, I'd take you upstairs to your favorite broom cupboard we spent so much time in back in fifth year. Do you remember the one?" Draco smirked provocatively.

"Oh, Draco, you have to be more specific. We've been together in several broom—," Astoria had had enough by now.

"But you are indeed engaged, Draco. A fact which you haven't forgotten, I hope." Astoria was a dim-witted woman, but she hadn't been sorted in Slytherin merely because of her bloodline. Draco was about to let her know he hadn't forgotten his dreaded engagement, but Astoria figured he needed a reminder. She snaked her arms around his waist, and pressed her lips against his lightly.

He knew he was in a rather troublesome situation. He couldn't just push Astoria off, being that there were thirty people standing in his immediate vicinity, not including Mr. Rousseau-who as it were-was watching their interaction intently. So he let her kiss him.

Suddenly, an icy shiver ran down his back like an electric current. His blonde hair on his arms stood on end, and he was paralyzed momentarily. All of his muscles tensed, and he gasped for air. Then almost immediately, he retained his facilities once more. He let her go like she had burned him.

Astoria eyed him, looking decidedly smug. Pansy had a grimace on her face to rival Mr. Rousseau's.

"What in bloody hell was that?" Draco queried. Astoria barely held back her grin as she shrugged innocently.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't pretend like you didn't feel it," Draco was starting to feel anger bubbling up inside his stomach at her deceit. She had done something to him, he was sure. Whatever it was, it felt like he had been struck by lightning.

But then, he felt funny. Like he was drunk. He stumbled, and blinked as the room began to shift right under his feet. "Wha…"

"Are you all right, Draco?" Astoria worried. He shook his head, and she took his arm to steady him. "I think you've had one too many firewhiskeys tonight. Why don't I take you to bed?" She took the glass of firewhiskey he had been holding, and with a quiet _Evanesco_, it vanished.

"Draco, drunk? That's a sight," Pansy laughed. "I haven't seen Draco even tipsy since Hogwarts."

Pansy's words made him start to wonder himself when the last time he felt this way was. It had been ages. But then why did he all of a sudden feel like he had drunk a whole bottle of firewhiskey? Hadn't he only had one drink? Or was it two?

He started to become tired, and it was nearly impossible to think. He tried to say something, but his mouth had become so very dry. Astoria was mumbling something to Pansy that sounded remarkably like 'bed' and 'sleep', and he found that he wouldn't mind a nap right now. He didn't even fight her when she led him by the arm out of the ballroom, and up the stairs.

While they walked down a hallway, twisting and turning through the maze that was Malfoy manor, Draco had acquired his voice once more. He discovered that he was rather chatty at the moment, unable to stop himself from blurting things randomly. "Did you know that when Rudolf Brand proposed to Gwendolyn Morgan back in 1953 after that seven-day quidditch match, she knocked him right over the head with her Cleansweep five! Ha! Gave him a concussion, she did!"

Astoria ignored his rambling, but continued to drag him up the stairs. He suddenly stopped, and violently wrenched himself from her grip. Immediately, he stumbled on a step and fell directly on his bum, to which he then promptly slid another two steps in the process. "No, let me go!" Draco demanded.

Astoria hurried after him. Draco leaned back on the stairs, laughing hysterically. She tried to pull him off the floor by the arm, unsuccessfully. Instead, he pulled her down onto the stairs on top of him. She let out a surprised gasp when he wrapped his arms around waist, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. He suddenly let her go, and she stumbled in attempts to stand up, and begin once again pulling him up off the floor before anyone could discover them.

"Have you ever seen the Nordic National Quidditch team perform The Beyond Blizzard? Quite spectacular! All three chasers fly around and around and around," he waved his arms around to demonstrate, which made Astoria momentarily have to let go of him. "Creates a fog, like a blizzard, get it?" He laughed again.

Astoria finally succeeded in getting him off the ground once more, and they were back to climbing the stairs. Draco's head was starting to hurt, blood pounded in his ears. He began having hallucinations as they entered his bedroom suite. He could have sworn it was Granger carrying him to his bed. When she dropped him onto the mattress, panting from the effort it took to get him there, his mind started to believe it really was Hermione.

She immediately pulled off his boots, and coat. His arms and legs felt heavy, so he simply lay there as she undressed him. Once she started on his trousers, he tried to sit up in alarm. "No, no, no, bad Granger," he grumbled.

She shushed him with her lips. Draco fell back against the mattress, taking her with him. He was franticly kissing her, clawing at her robes to the point that she was sure it would rip. When he broke the kiss, she hurriedly returned to his trousers, which were now undone, and began pushing them down his legs. He felt her warm breath against his stomach, and then lower. Once she kissed his hipbone, he unraveled, surrendering himself to her ministrations.

She took this as encouragement, and kissed up his abdomen and chest, and then finally met his lips again. He just let her kiss him softly, lying as still as a statue.

She stopped once she realized he wasn't participating, and got up off him. He turned his head and looked at her (more like two of her). He blinked until she came into focus again. When she did, he realized she was already out of her robes, and standing before him completely naked. He found that he was momentarily struck by a powerful emotion: lust. He was so indisposed that he didn't even rationalize that she was going to take advantage of him right then and there. He found that he held no objections in the matter. "I've missed you," he admitted softly.

She climbed on top of him, and straddled his waist, running her hands across his chest. "I've missed you too," she replied, leaning down to kiss his neck. He sighed softly at her gentle touch. He gazed up at her, unfocused. Her hair was undone, hanging in front of her face. The blonde hair turned brown and bushy for the faintest of moments, as she buried him deep within her. "Granger," Draco sighed in pleasure, all awareness leaving him completely. Whatever happened next, Draco was certain it was with a very familiar know-it-all Gryffindor witch, and definitely not with his fiancé.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco awoke violently, groaning in pain.

What in Merlin's name had happened to him? Where was he? Why did it feel like his whole body had been trampled by a hippogriff? He knew what a hangover felt like, but this didn't feel like a normal one that he could recall.

He lay face down, on his right arm for an undetermined amount of time; therefore, it felt as it if it had fallen off completely. His mouth was so dry that his lips felt like parchment when he ran his tongue across them. As he tried to get up, he found his muscles were devoid of strength. He tried to move his leg, but something—or rather someone—was lying across it.

He turned his head to the other side of the bed, and what he saw made his heart nearly stop from shock. Astoria was sprawled out across his king size bed, perpendicular to him. Her eyes were closed, her face was as pail as her hair, and she was very much naked. "Fuck!"

His gray eyes traveled across her body and took in the many bruises, which marred her otherwise perfect skin. He reached his left hand towards her cautiously to press his fingers against one such bruise located on her upper arm. It matched the shape and length of his fingers perfectly. That explained why he felt so sore. The other bruises across her waist and neck suggested their sexual encounter was extremely rough. Draco winced as pain traveled to his shoulder, where a huge bruise had formed overnight.

He frowned in confusion. What had occurred? Why couldn't he remember taking her to his bed? All clues led him to believe he had shagged her and it hadn't been consensual. And that scared him. He didn't want to wake her, but he wanted away from her immediately, before he threw up all over himself. He loosened his leg from under her body, and she stirred slightly. He froze immediately. She blinked awake, and her blue eyes searched the ceiling for a moment, discerning her environment before she turned to him.

"Would you mind terribly, removing your vile self from my person?" Draco spat. She didn't move for a moment, and he became noticeably angrier. "Did you hear me? I said _va_ _te faire enculer!"* _Draco kicked at her with his other leg, trying not to puke all over himself.

She tilted her head in confusion for a second before she willed her body up off the mattress with a groan. When Draco was free, he immediately leapt off the bed, and entered his adjoining bathroom (limping from the pain it caused his legs to finally move), locking himself in.

After spilling the contents of stomach, he felt content to lie on the tile floor for the remainder of the day. However, fate had other plans for him.

"Draco, are you all right?" Astoria called from behind his bathroom door_._

"What do you think, you bloody_ morceau de merde_?" Draco growled at her. "You had better be gone by the time I'm done showering, if you know what's good for you."

She didn't respond, but he heard her leave the doorway, and there was silence once more. He shakily stood, and stumbled to the sink to splash water onto his face. He looked into the mirror, and noticed for the first time that his eyebrow was cut and dried blood was plastered to his forehead. He ran his fingers gingerly across his cut, trying to remember what had given him such a wound.

Unable to come up with any answers without his head feeling like it would explode from the effort, he cleaned off the blood on his face, and went to start the shower.

The scorching water did much to alleviate the pain in his muscles, but little to quiet his mind. He thought really hard on what he remembered from last night. He remembered bits and pieces of the party. He remembered his mother's watchful eyes upon him. He remembered speaking to Mr. Rousseau and Pansy. He remembered Blaise's murderous glares.

But nothing else; nothing to explain how he had ended up in bed with Astoria. He must have been extremely drunk in order to find this a good idea (or Obliviated). That's the only conclusion that he had come to as he stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He dripped all the way to his nightstand, where he found his wand. He dried his hair, and summoned his robes. Once dressed, he finally had the opportunity to take in the condition of his bedroom. His silk sheets were all the way on the other side of the room. Two of his favorite pillows were in shredded heaps of feathers across his bed. The century old mirror that hung on the wall near the door was now tiny sparkly shards of glass littering the floor. (Which explained his cut face). The curtains covering the entrance to his private balcony had fallen down.

Two scenarios came to mind as he did a 360-degree turn about the room: the first was that perhaps he had been fighting Astoria as she forced him to submit to her (which wasn't likely if he were drunk, unless she had taken his wand), and the second was that she had fought him the entire way (Which again, didn't seem likely).

"Fuck," he cursed out loud. "What in the name of Merlin has that cow done to me?" He could quite literally spit fire right at this moment. Someone was going to pay for this.

XXX

Narcissa Malfoy paced the east wing drawing room anxiously. "Let me get this straight, then. So you thought to poison Draco's drink with a love potion in hopes of _what exactly?_ Didn't you learn in Hogwarts that true love cannot be produced through artificial means? Love potions only cause temporary obsession, at the very least, when brewed _exactly right_."

Astoria sat in a primrose colored chair in Mrs. Malfoy's private drawing room in the east wing, looking deeply guilty. "Yes, of course I knew. But I only meant to get him to want me, otherwise, he'd never have gone to bed with me. But the potion backfired for some reason. He became drowsy and then extremely capricious. He was angry and then he was submissive." She pointed out the bruises on her arms as if they alone could describe just how violent it had become.

"What did you put in that potion?" Narcissa looked at her accusingly. "Merlin knows you probably added in a bit of wrong ingredients, which resulted in a catastrophe of epic proportions!"

Astoria looked a little frightened at Narcissa's outburst. "Good heavens! No wonder! I must have gotten the potion wrong. Snape always told me to pay more attention in potions!" She pretended to be interested in her skirt for a moment. "This morning he looked disgusted at what he had done, what are we to do now?"

Narcissa put her hands on her hips and looked sternly at her future daughter-in-law. "_We?_ There _is_ no we, my dear. You're to henceforth cease any attempts at forcing my son to fall in love with you. Leave it to me, and me alone. Do you understand?" Astoria nodded her head vigorously. "Good, now, I don't think he remembers anything; otherwise he'd have done more than cast you out of his bed. We can play it off as if he simply drank too much last night. I shall attest to seeing him drinking heavily, and leaving with you from the party. You need to make yourself scarce for a while. If there's one thing I know about my son, it's that he will come to his own conclusions about what happened last night, and most definitely be angry with what he determines."

XXX

One good thing about the holidays, in Hermione's opinion, is that the Ministry employees get a long holiday. Today was her first day off. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Today was going to be a good day, she could feel it.

The weather was less harsh today as it had been in weeks previous. The sun was actually out this morning, and the effect it had on the street below her flat was breath taking. The snow covering the ground like a frozen blanket glistened in the sunlight, transforming all she could see from her bedroom window, into a winter wonderland.

She felt like doing something today. Perhaps she'd visit Ginny and Harry, if they weren't too busy. She immediately sat down to a steaming cup of tea, and a piece of parchment and quill to send a letter to her two best friends in hopes of their company sometime soon.

Mid-day she received a reply. It read as follows,

"Hermione,

So good to hear from you! Believe it or not, I was just about to write you myself! Harry and I have news to share with you. If it's all right, we'll be over around four-thirty. Send your reply as soon as you can.

Can't wait to see you, Mione!

Ginny"

Hermione wasted no time in replying that she would expect them around 4:30 this afternoon. She wondered what news Ginny wanted to share with her. She briefly pondered if Harry had proposed finally. No, but she would have been the first to know, wouldn't she? It was no use trying to determine their news, soon enough she'd know.

She spent the hour leading up to Ginny and Harry's arrival cleaning up her flat and making teacakes. Finally, her two best friends burst through her fireplace amidst green flames.

Ginny enveloped her in a small hug, which was so different from her brother's bear hugs. It was then that she noticed Harry looked almost _giddy. _But nothing compared to Ginny's delighted glee. She found herself even more anxious to learn the reasons behind such joy.

She ushered them into her kitchen, and offered them teacakes, before she sat down beside Ginny awaiting the announcement. Several seconds ticked by and Hermione started to get impatient.

"So, you had some news?" She prodded.

Ginny couldn't suppress a grin, "Well, Mione, you're our best friend, and Harry and I wanted you to be one of the first to know," Ginny flashed Harry a smile. "Harry and I are to be married!" She finally blurted.

Hermione and Ginny broke out into delightful screams, and hugged each other tightly. "Oh, Ginny! I'm so happy for you! And Harry! I cannot begin to explain my happiness! Congratulations! If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you two!" Hermione exclaimed as she hugged Harry as well.

Ginny turned her left hand down to show off the ring, and Hermione immediately gushed over how pretty it is. After some more hugging, and a few tears of joy, they finally calmed down. "So how did it happen? I want to hear all about it!" Hermione queried.

Ginny gave Harry a look that tugged at Hermione's heart. She could tell that this was the happiest day of their lives, and all Hermione could think is, _'finally'_.

Harry and Ginny shared a love like no other, but Harry was nothing if not traditional. He wanted a permanent place at the Ministry to shape the world into a place he could raise a family, before he made any decisions about their future.

Watching her best friends happily recite the fateful evening in which Harry had proposed, Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of another engagement that weighed heavily on her mind lately.

She wondered if Draco's proposal was anywhere near as romantic and sincere as Harry's had been. She wondered if Astoria had cried as she accepted his offer of combining their souls for all eternity. Did Astoria worry about being the wife he deserved? Did she fret over what kind of husband he'd be? No, Hermione couldn't bring herself to see Draco and Astoria's engagement as anything but fake and dramatic.

She felt pity for them both. To have an arranged marriage certainly didn't mean an unhappy marriage in every case, but this one seemed doomed from the beginning. He had been sleeping with nearly any woman he could get, and she assumed Astoria knew nothing of this. A marriage based on decomposing foundations was always messy in the end. Unless, she was mistaken entirely, and Draco _did _feel something for Astoria after all.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind, and instead put on a smile for her two best friends, whom she invited to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate. They were headed to the Burrow, and the Weasley's would want the couple over tonight for dinner, so Hermione had to wait until the next night. For the next hour, the three of them drank tea and nibbled on teacakes while drudging up old happy memories from their Hogwarts days. It was enough to make Hermione feel both chipper and gloomy at the same time.

XXX

"So I'm to believe that I simply got _so_ drunk that I took Astoria back to my room and shagged her to ribbons?" Draco fought the urge to scream at his mother as she described the scene in which Astoria helped him from the ballroom in a state of inebriated confusion. "And _that's_ why I cannot remember any of it."

Narcissa was plenty used to her son's detailed explanations of his sex life, but the tone he used was new. Her statuesque face emitted no feelings as she watched her son pace the drawing room. She had called him in a moment ago after hearing from Teeny that his room was in shambles, and his behavior had turned violent. "Now how am I to know what happened after you two left? And _do_ spare me the details, as I'd rather not have to picture my only son shagging anything to ribbons. Won't you sit down so we can figure this out?" She demanded in a gentle tone that she saved for when his moods became volatile.

"No, mother, _je ne vais pas m'asseoir!_ She has done something to me, and I demand to know what it is! Now call her up here so she can explain exactly what happened last night!" Draco shrieked at her. His mother raised a cynical eyebrow at his attitude. He always began alternating between French and English whenever he was angry.

"Darling, Astoria has already explained to me what she knows, albeit in a much more discreet manner than you have. I've already told you everything she said. I don't understand why you're so worked up over this? Surely this isn't the first time you've lost recollection of an intoxicated tryst?" His mother looked unconcerned, and it excited his anger further.

"I refuse to believe that I screwed her because I drank too much!" His mother's face turned to a frown at his filthy mouth. "I'm telling you this wasn't a simple drunken lapse of reason! This was a premeditated, calculated violation, and I won't stand for it!"

Draco headed for the door now, but Narcissa wouldn't allow it. She aimed her wand at the door and locked him in. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to seek Astoria out about this." He stopped abruptly, and turned back around to face her. His face was alight with malicious intent. How dare his mother treat him this way?

The look on his Narcissa's face wasn't easy to discern if you didn't know her as well as Draco did. But being that it was his mother, he could see that she wasn't upset or surprised in the slightest by this entire situation. Thoughts were churning in his mind, and all of them warned him that his mother had more to do with this than he had originally assumed.

The more he looked into her gray eyes, the more he began to shed light on the matter. Astoria, as dim-witted as she is, wouldn't have been able to do something to him and get away with it. But his mother certainly could, and he'd never suspect anything. His fiancé had been the first person he suspected upon waking up next to her, simply because she had seemingly gotten what she wanted. And also because she was stupid enough to try something like this. But now, he could correctly deduce where his mother fit into the conclusion. She had agendas as well as Astoria, and they were of one mind.

"Mother, you don't seem surprised about this," Draco started to walk back to where his mother sat with his usual stoic demeanor firmly back in place. "Now, why would that be, I wonder?"

She didn't seem the least interested in his question, in fact, she looked almost bored as she sat on the edge of her seat with her legs crossed primly at the ankles. "Now, Draco, I don't like what you're insinuating," she chided. "What would I possibly benefit by getting Astoria into your bed?" She lifted a blonde brow as she awaited his reply.

"You tell me," Draco shrugged. In reality he knew exactly why she'd want Astoria in his bed. If only he could remember!

She gracefully stood from her seat, and walked to where he stood to try and intimidate him. His mother was even better at intimidation than Madeye Moody ever was, and that's saying something, considering he scared the pants off Draco in fourth year. "I will not stand for your allegations," she crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. "If anything, you shouldn't feel nearly as slighted about bedding your fiancé as you are. Why, I daresay it's a step in the right direction. What with your dalliances with mudbloods recently."

Draco looked affronted for but a moment before he was all arrogance again. And that answered his question. She all but admitted guilt with her petty insult. Draco was clever, he knew this tactic. Narcissa was misdirection galore.

"Whomever I chose to have sex with is at my discretion, and not dependent on blood status. And given the opportunity, I'd do it again," Draco smirked when he made his admission. It had the desired effect. His mother was now back to glaring, for she knew he was dead serious.

"What have you become, my son?" She shook her head sadly.

"What you made me to be," he replied coolly as he headed towards the door again, knowing this time, his mother wouldn't bar his exit.

XXX

Hermione found herself almost wishing she had work to do. Leisure time wasn't fun or relaxing to her; she found that it made her less relaxed. Her whole life she'd been doing something or another, and being able to sit down alone in peace and quiet didn't elicit the repose in which a holiday intended. Instead, she felt antsy, and boxed in.

She'd finished everything on her to-do list and it was only the fifth day of her two-week holiday. She'd finished Christmas shopping months ago, so that was out. Perhaps she could go to Hogsmeade today? Hogwarts students were sure to be home with their families for the holidays, and that meant that Hogsmeade would be less crowded than Diagon Alley would be this time of year. And she had a craving for a licorice wand like nobody's business.

She changed out of her pajamas, and wrapped herself in her black jumper, and red and gold scarf that Ginny had gotten her years ago. She then pulled on a black wool peacoat to match, and snow boots. After she was sure she'd make it more than five minutes in this weather, she apparated to Hogsmeade.

Scotland was much, much colder than London. She forgot how unbearable it could be in the winter. She rushed through the snow towards the Three Broomsticks. Once inside the front door, she shook off the snow that had fallen onto her coat and head.

She went to sit at the back table, which was the only one vacant. She looked around the inn, and noticed it was crowded with people. This surprised her since she assumed everyone would be home for the holidays, what with it being so close to Christmas and all.

Madam Rosmerta bounded over to her with a big smile on her face, carrying a warm butterbeer. Every time Hermione came to the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta would never charge her for her drinks. She always tried to pay for them though, in which Madam Rosmerta would kindly turn her down.

As she sipped her butterbeer, her insides warmed slightly, and she felt much better. She looked around the old inn with a smile on her face. All of the days she used to spend here brought fond memories. She singled out the table, which Hagrid would frequently sit at, and then her mind traveled all of a sudden to memories of a jinxed Katie Bell, and then ultimately to Draco Malfoy.

She dashed those thoughts away; she wouldn't dwell on _him_. He was a lost cause. A one-night fling.

Then, as if God really did have a nasty sense of humor, the one and only prince of Slytherin casually descended the stairs leading up to the rooms above. He pushed his fringe out of his face once he reached the bottom, and she sunk lower into her seat, praying he wouldn't notice her.

But as if he sensed her eyes upon him, he turned directly in her direction. The guarded look on his face turned mildly surprised as he sauntered towards her table, his robes billowing ominously. She felt, at that moment, that she was a frightened child, whose parent was coming to punish her.

He didn't bother to ask for an invitation to sit down, nor did he seem inclined to inquire about her health. He sat beside her silently, as if he was supposed to meet her here all along. She could feel the tension coming off him in invisible waves like a muggle-repelling charm.

Hermione felt her anxiety ascending to new and abysmal heights while she waited for him to speak. He didn't make her wait long.

"It seems so long since you and I were at Hogwarts together," he began. "Did you ever think we'd live to see the day when you and I could sit together at the Three Broomsticks without killing each other?"

She was so surprised by his easy tone, that it took her a few moments before she could wrap her mind around what he was saying. _As if I don't want to kill you!_ She wanted to say. But for the sake of seeing where he was going, "honestly, I didn't think we'd survive long enough to see the next day, let alone the Three Broomsticks again."

"Do you miss it?" He asked her. When their eyes met, his didn't carry the usual arrogance, and she softened a bit.

"Hogwarts? Or us trying to kill one another?" Hermione questioned.

"Aren't they one in the same?" He sounded wistful, but didn't give her a chance to reply. "There used to be a time when I couldn't bear your presence long enough to make it through potions class," he divulged.

She bristled, "and now you can?"

He shrugged, "I admit you're not as bad as I thought, Granger."

She shook her head, and frowned. That was probably the closest thing to a compliment as she'd get from him.

"You know, you shouldn't be over here. If the _Daily Prophet_ gets word of this, your fiancé won't be very happy," she pointed out while taking a sip of butterbeer to look casual.

Draco's face flashed with sudden volatile fury, for but a moment, and then he looked pensive.

"Let me ask you something," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "If you could go back, to that night in my library, would you have done it?"

She knew precisely what he meant, but couldn't bring herself to answer him. "Would you?"

A second passed, then two, then three, and Hermione thought he might not answer her, and then, "Out of every woman I've ever been with, you were the only one I've ever felt inclined to see again," he admitted with a trademark smirk firmly planted on his perfect face.

Hermione felt her heart rate spike at his admission, and found it difficult to think. "Why?" Was all she could muster.

He pondered that question for a moment, looking as if he didn't quite know himself. "I don't feel quite as alone when I'm with you." He looked at her with an unreadable expression.

Hermione wasn't surprised that he felt this way. She already knew he was lonely, but hearing him admit that he was less lonely when he was with her, surprised her like nothing else. She couldn't help but feel as if Draco Malfoy had just admitted something that he had never disclosed to anyone else. She started to feel an emotion that she had no place to associate with Draco Malfoy: longing.

While she was having a mini emotional breakdown, Draco had said something that caught her attention again.

"I guess fate sometimes brings us to places we ought not to be," his quicksilver eyes were glued to her face as he drawled each syllable.

"Yes, perhaps. But sometimes, it brings us where we would have never ventured otherwise," Hermione proposed.

He smiled at her then, and he caught her off guard. How unbelievably different his face looked when he was smiling. He looked genuinely happy for a few moments, and then, "Well, I guess I'll see you around, Granger. Hopefully sooner more than later." She watched Draco grab her hand off the table and kiss it gently. As he walked directly out in the harsh winter weather, she found herself pondering over his words.

What had he meant by this? Why did it feel as if he had just put the proverbial ball into her court? Surely this was a goodbye, was it not? But then why did it feel like a beginning?

XXX

Hermione casted a warming charm to her peacoat as she trudged through the snow towards Honeydukes, completely lost in thought. It was now that she wondered what Draco had been doing in the Three Broomsticks anyways. Was he staying there? Or perhaps he had met a woman there?

Something across the way, made her doubt her theory. Astoria Greengrass was hurrying towards the direction of the Shrieking Shack, alone. Hermione looked around thinking that Malfoy wouldn't be too far away, but no one else was in her vicinity. Hermione frowned. Why did it appear that Astoria was up to something? Maybe it was the way she looked back and forth anxiously. Or maybe it was the way she stuck to the shadows. Either way, something about this situation made Hermione suspicious.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed further behind Astoria as she headed down the snow-covered path.

When at last Astoria stopped, Hermione backed up into a small crevice to remain hidden as she watched the blonde witch step into an abandoned shop nearby the Shrieking Shack. She waited until the coast was clear, and then she tried for a closer look. When she deduced that she couldn't see anything inside the dirty front windows, she continued to wait outside the abandoned shop for several minutes. At last, someone exited. It wasn't Astoria. It was a cloaked shadow at least six feet tall, and Hermione could tell by the way he walked that it wasn't Draco.

As her eyes followed the hooded figure out of sight, Astoria then exited the shop, and silently made her way across the path back to where she had come from. Hermione didn't know what she should do. She decided to head back to Honeydukes. It was none of her business what Malfoy's fiancé did with her free time.

But she couldn't help but feel like something had just gone down in that abandoned shop that Draco had no idea about. Yet, wasn't she just thinking Draco had been having similar secret meetings in the Three Broomsticks? Hermione frowned despite herself. Their relationship was definitely not an honest one, that's for sure.

She hurried through the snow and into Honeydukes where she was instantly warmed. Hermione loosened her scarf, and lifted her hood. As she was smoothing out her hair that had become unruly underneath the hood, her elbow came in contact with someone's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she immediately turned to whomever she just had assaulted.

"Hermione?" came a deep, amused voice from beside her.

She stared into blue eyes that seemed so familiar to her, yet she couldn't place them. The way his eyes sparkled with self-confidence triggered instant awareness. "Cormac?"

He seemed sincerely pleased at being remembered. "Wow, Hermione, long time no see," he looked surprised and delighted at the same time. The emotions took over his face as he smiled warmly at her. She smiled back, genuinely shocked to see him.

He looked the same as she remembered, on further inspection, and she couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that she hadn't figured out who he was immediately. He still towered over her, and looked as hard as steel with all those muscles. But he looked older. That must be it. But the years had done nothing to diminish his strikingly handsome features. If anything, they heightened them to a degree that he looked absolutely sexy these days. Hermione couldn't help feeling an instant attraction between them.

"It _has_ been a while, McLaggen," Hermione muttered as he enveloped her in a warm hug. His embrace brought back memories of a time in sixth year when he had gone with her to the Slug Club Christmas party, and had been a bit too forward in his advances towards her. But right now, his hug didn't seem in the least bit forward, just more or less friendly.

"So what brings you to Hogsmeade?" Cormac wondered after he let her go.

"Um…" She began, forgetting momentarily why she had come. "Honeydukes." She said finally as if stating the obvious. He nodded in understanding.

"Always find myself craving a licorice wand every now and then, and have to stop by good ole Honeydukes." Hermione looked shocked.

"You like licorice wands?" She queried.

"Yes, they're my weakness," he admitted sheepishly as if liking licorice wands was a crime.

"Mine too," she insisted.

"Well I'll be Merlin's uncle," Cormac gave her a winning smile. They started to peruse the aisles of Honeydukes together. "So I haven't seen you since the war, what have you been up to?" He asked her casually.

She gave him a sidelong glance. Had he really just inquired about her in some way? This was definitely not the Cormac McLaggen she knew in Hogwarts who cared only about himself. The fact that he had asked her about what she had been doing was inconceivable. It took her a moment to recover from shock, "I have been working for the Ministry."

"Oh, that's wonderful," he said as he pulled down two boxes of Licorice Wands. As he handed her one, his fingers brushed hers, and she suddenly felt a shiver run through her, like an electric current. She brushed it away easily. "How's Potter and Weasley these days?"

His blue eyes held no sarcasm or annoyance when mentioning Harry and Ron, and Hermione couldn't help shaking her head in confusion. "Um, Harry just got engaged recently."

Cormac gave her a pleasant smile, "that's wonderful. Tell him I said congratulations. And I'm sure the lucky lady is Ginny Weasley?" Hermione nodded her head. "And you and Weasley shacked up I assume?" Hermione looked away from him, and he immediately understood. "Oh, I see. But surely you aren't single? A beautiful, talented woman like you? I bet the guys fall all over you."

Hermione couldn't help the blush that spread across her face at his praise. "Actually, I am single," she shrugged. "I guess I'm not that great." She joked, immediately feeling awkward.

He turned serious for a moment, "I always thought you were great." She looked into his eyes, which regarded her seriously.

She felt inclined to change the subject quickly, "And what about you? What have you been up to these days?" She walked along the aisle pretending to be interested in the chocolate frogs.

He continued to follow behind her. "Well, I have actually been out of the country for the past five years. Just came back a few days ago for the holidays."

She stopped, to turn back to him. "Out of the country?" She wondered out loud.

"Yes. Believe it or not, I started on the Woolongong Warriors. With Adrian Pucey of all people. Him and I moved to Australia together," Cormac divulged happily.

So he had become a professional Quidditch player after all, she thought. "Congrats. It's what you've always wanted." At least now she knew why he was oblivious to what happened two years ago with Ron, he was in Australia at the time.

He nodded his head in approval. Then they paid for their sweets, and walked out of Honeydukes and into the frosty weather. Hermione tucked her scarf into her coat, and charmed it to emit a little heat. Cormac did the same beside her.

"Well, it was good to see you, Hermione." McLaggen gave her a sincere look, and Hermione couldn't help but smiling and nodding in the affirmative. It had been good to see McLaggen. He wasn't anything like he had been at Hogwarts, and it pleasantly surprised her. This Cormac she could see herself getting to know.

As if he read her mind, "I was just about to have a drink at the Three Broomsticks. Would you care to join me? That is, if you don't have any other pressing matters to attend to?" He looked sheepishly at her, and Hermione gave in. _Why not?_ She thought. _What's the worst that could happen?_

_XXX_

Draco had hoped to avoid being seen at the Three Broomsticks, but Hermione had thoroughly squashed that plan by sitting at the back table looking so unbelievably adorable.

After realizing that his mother and fiancé had it out for him, he accepted that the only way to avoid them was to stay somewhere else entirely. Of course he could have stayed at a friend's house, but that was a sure-fire way to be discovered. At least at the Three Broomsticks, Draco could elude detection for at least a while. So he braved his parent's wrath, and left immediately after discovering his mother's treachery.

His mother had gone too far this time. He knew for certain that she had, in the very least, knew about this, thus allowing it to happen; or instigated it in some way. Therefore, it got him thinking-seriously thinking-about what this meant for him in the future.

Either he could allow his parents and fiancé to rule his life forever, or he could pull the proverbial rug out from under them and go his separate way. The first obvious problem with this was the money. He knew with absolute certainty that his father would disinherit him quicker than Granger could recall Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. The second problem was that he would have nowhere to go, nowhere to live, no means of supplication whatsoever.

All this and more were the principal reasons why Draco had put up with his parent's ultimate reign over him for so long. They knew he'd never be able to live on his own. Was this enough of a reason to forfeit everything he has ever known?

The more he thought about it, the more he came to a resolute no. But then, marrying Astoria was a means to an end. He had to get married in order to continue to enjoy his lifestyle of being rich and powerful, but what would he have to give up in return?

So his choices were to either marry Astoria and surrender his entire life to her and his parent's and be unhappy, or live a life of poverty and struggle the rest of his life to make ends meet, and ultimately be unhappy.

The upside to being on his own was that he was free to pursue a relationship with anyone he wished, which if he were being honest, was someone he'd never have even thought about being with before. And eventually would have led to his demise anyways, since his parents would've seen it as an excuse to disinherit him as well.

Draco dwelled on this positive thought as he sat in his grungy inn room. Madam Rosmerta had promised him that this was her best room, but Draco wouldn't kid himself into believing she had forgotten about him imperiusing her back in sixth year.

Before long he found himself feeling anxious. Being in such a little room with no one to keep him company, beside a family of Puffskeins under the bed, made him frantic to leave the room. Maybe he would find something to eat?

He put on his cloak, and went out into the dim hallway. From there he traveled down a few flights of stairs until he could hear the noise of the patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Draco tried not to look at anyone as he headed down the stairs towards the bar. Anyone that noticed him would merely sum it up to an evening tryst with an undisclosed witch of ill breeding.

Speaking of witches with ill breeding, Hermione Granger was seated a few tables from the bar with a man Draco didn't recognize from the back. He watched Hermione as she smiled at the man, and laughed at something he said. He titled his head in confusion. Was he witnessing a date? Perhaps that's why Granger was here?

He couldn't help himself, so he got closer; he was now only a few meters away, seated at a table hidden by a few burly men at the table beside him. Hermione was doing the thing she did when she was recalling Hogwarts memories: she would smile fondly, but Draco could see the underlying sadness to it that no one else could see._ Since when did I know such intimate things about Granger?_ He asked himself.

Finally the man turned towards the bar, and Draco caught a glimpse of his face_. Oh, I know him. He looks so familiar. Who is he?_ Draco tried to recall where he had seen this wizard previously.

At the moment he figured out who the wizard was beside Hermione, she spotted him from her table. He shifted his eyes to hers, which held an expression that was full of suspicion and assumption.

He tried to look away but he couldn't. After Granger had glared daggers at him from the table for a few seconds, he stood up—feeling extremely irritable—and went back to his room. _How dare she tempt him when she was seeing the irritating Gryffindor? What did she see in that stupid prat anyways?_ He always had a feeling Hermione fell for muscular Quidditch player types. _But what does that matter? _He asked himself irritably as he slammed his door to his room shut, and bolted it with a wave of his wand.

XXX

What was Malfoy doing at the Three Broomsticks again? Following her, obviously. Either that or he was staying here. But why would he leave his fiancé to stay at a cheap inn? Nothing made sense to Hermione anymore.

Cormac was a great distraction for a while. She felt so comfortable around him as they passed the time talking about their Hogwarts days before the war had changed them all.

After about an hour, Hermione told him that it was getting late. He agreed, and offered her an invitation to get together before he set off to Australia again. She acquiesced, and they went their separate ways.

Cormac ventured out into the Scotland snow, but Hermione stayed in the pub until Cormac was out of sight completely.

She knew she couldn't leave without knowing what Malfoy was up to. So she went to the bar to find Madam Rosmerta busy filling glasses of mulled mead.

"Madam, Draco Malfoy is staying here? Is he not?" She asked her in a hushed voice when she had Madam Rosmerta's attention.

The old witch gave her a suspicious look. "He is, indeed."

"I'm here on official business from the Ministry. Can you please tell me which room he's staying in?" Hermione lied easily.

After a few seconds of silence, Madam Rosmerta conceded, "first floor, room 18."

Without hesitation, Hermione thanked Madam Rosmerta and went straight upstairs in search of room 18. She walked quietly down the hallway, checking each number on every door. She found it easily.

Before she lost her nerve, she knocked twice firmly, and waited for Draco to answer.

He opened the door slowly, and when she finally saw his face, he didn't look surprised to see her at all. After checking behind her to see that no one was with her, he stepped aside for her to enter.

Before Hermione could get a single word out, he had begun in an assuming tone, "Well, well, well, you've found me. Come for another taste of heaven, have you Granger?"

She crossed her arms across her chest defiantly. "Actually, I came to ask you why you felt the need to spy on me earlier?"

He turned and walked over to the small table beside the bed, and took out two glass tumblers and a bottle of firewhiskey. He fluently poured the liquid into each tumbler with a practiced hand, before turning back to face her. He handed her the second glass, which she took reluctantly. After giving it a delicate sniff, she took a sip.

He laughed quietly, "Something wrong, Granger?" He asked as he sat down in the armchair beside the window, crossing his legs casually.

She ignored his question. "You haven't answered my question, Malfoy."

"So I haven't," He replied cryptically. "When were you going to tell me you were dating McLaggen?"

She snorted, "You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're engaged, and sleeping with Merlin knows how many women on the side. You aren't exactly in any position to criticize me about _cheating_."

He smirked but otherwise looked calm. "Is that jealousy I detect, Granger?"

She scoffed and took a long sip from the tumbler. "As if." Draco watched her with amusement from his chair as she continued to drink the firewhiskey and try to hide her dislike for it. "I saw Astoria this afternoon," She disclosed.

"Indeed?"

"She met someone in an abandoned shop near the Shrieking Shack. Watched some wizard come out a little while later. Didn't recognize him though."

Draco didn't seem interested in the slightest, in fact, he looked bored. "Enough of this talk about my fiancé, why don't you tell me why you really came here?"

She frowned at his audacity, "I already told you, I wanted to ask you why—,"

"We both know that isn't why, Granger," Draco interrupted looking impatient. He downed the rest of the firewhiskey, and in one fluent motion, got up off of the armchair to head in her direction. He never took his mercurial eyes off of her as he silently stalked forward.

Hermione felt like she was a small animal about to become a tiger's prey as she watched his approach. His beauty had her completely frozen, knowing at any moment he'd strike, yet he had totally mesmerized her somewhere in the time of a heartbeat. She knew he was coming closer and closer, but she remained rooted to the spot, anxiously waiting for what he'd do next.

He stopped just a few centimeters away from where she was rooted, his eyes boring into hers. She could feel the warmth coming off of him; smell his cologne, as he took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She waited with baited breath as he leaned his mouth towards hers. She knew that any second and she'd be lost, yet she also realized that it was one step closer to heaven.

He closed the distance between them. Before Hermione knew what was happening, his arms went around her waist, and he pulled her closer to him. His warm tongue parted her lips as she melted against him, unable to resist.

Hermione felt him pulling the buttons of her coat with a steady hand, and then sliding it off her shoulders to pool at her feet. For a moment, she felt him stop and break the kiss, but only to lift her shirt over her head. He looked in her eyes, silently asking her if she wanted him to continue down a path that she knew the outcome. A volatile and heavenly outcome.

In affirmation, she took off her jeans and boots, and undid her bra. He watched her with a hungry look on his darkened face. When she was undressed, he kissed her some more, undressing himself in the process of nudging her towards the bed. Draco kept willing his brain to work, trying to focus on something other than Granger's supple breasts or velvety skin. But the more he tried, the more he failed.

As she fell back onto the mattress, he quickly covered her body with his. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist tightly as he kissed down her neck. He counted to ten in his head, gritting his teeth in frustration. Since when did he become an inexperienced lover? He'd been with countless women before, sculpting him into a sex machine. He knew exactly what they wanted, and how to leave them begging for more.

Granger was different though. He tried to slow down; tried to make it the best she'd ever had. Yet, his brain demanded that he take her, claim her. It's like he had reverted into a caveman, where his only instincts were to grab the back of her head and make her scream.

Hermione ran her fingers down his bare forearms. His muscles were clenched and firm. She could feel his body shaking above her. She kissed his bare forearm lightly, and looked into his stormy eyes, willing him to continue. But he looked to be fighting himself.

"We can't keep doing this," he admonished.

She put a finger to his lips to silence him, and then kissed his mouth again. This time he complied with her wishes.

They became lost in each other's arms, neither one thinking about anything aside from the present. Neither one wanting to admit what they became when they were enthralled in passion, even though eventually, they'd have to accept that they were experiencing something other than the normal feelings evoked during sex.

Their spiritual dance ended in a decrescendo like at the end of a symphony. Each one feeling more satisfied than after their previous encounter, except somehow, more conflicted than ever before.

A/N: *French translations:

va te faire enculer: Bugger off!

morceau de merde: Piece of shit

Je ne vais pas m'asseoir!: I will not sit down!


	8. Chapter 8

The brick-colored heavy curtains were drawn, making it impossible to tell what time it was. Draco guessed it was still early. He fluidly stretched his arms and legs, so as not to disturb his sleeping partner.

Things had gotten out of hand last night, but so what? He wasn't complaining. He thought it was even better than the first time he had shagged Granger, and that was a hard thing to beat

He turned to look beside him on the bed and down the length of her exposed flesh just peeking out of the tangled sheet. It was begging to be touched. Her cognac curls were sprawled out in every which direction, covering most of her face. Draco lightly brushed away a lock of brown hair, exposing the peacefully slumbering face of an angel.

Merlin, did he have it bad. No longer could he simply wake up and leave her wondering if she would ever see him again. No longer did he feel inclined to just tell her pretty little promises he didn't intend to keep. So many thoughts rushed through his groggy mind, none of which had anything to do with leaving.

As if she had felt his eyes lingering upon her, her eyelashes fluttered open like a beautiful butterfly taking flight and he watched as her pupils dilated, focusing on his naked chest just inches from her face.

Was she dreaming? She wondered as her eyes continued up to Malfoy's face. Last night's events came rushing forward in her mind as sleepy thoughts vanished. If this was a dream, then she didn't want to wake up.

"Morning," Draco whispered as he grabbed her back and pulled her closer against his chest.

She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling his scent. She could get used to this; waking up next to him. Only one problem: he was engaged.

Instantly, she pushed him away, turning bright red. His face became amused. A smirk began to creep across his face as she blinked at him. "You're really going to have to get used to this sooner or later," he playfully chided.

"Malfoy…" Hermione whispered, trying hard not to look at his nakedness. Scarlet blush wove its way up her neck as her body reacted to the awkwardness. "This…I…" She was struggling for words, and to cover herself with the sheet.

Draco's finger found the edge of the sheet above her chest, and pulled it lower. The feel of his fingers against her skin almost made her lose her head. Almost, but not quite. She batted his hand away, pulling the sheet to cover herself once more.

"Granger, I'm not at all sorry that this happened again," he admitted haughtily.

"Have you forgotten you're engaged?"

"Unfortunately, not yet. But perhaps the fifth times the charm?" He suggested with a darkening look in his eyes.

She left the bed, wrapping the sheets around herself as she did. "Look, this was a mistake. We can't keep doing this," she declared as she picked up her clothes off the floor, muttering something incoherent to herself as she walked to the bathroom.

He quickly stood up to follow behind her into the bathroom before she could lock herself in, looking as if he didn't care at all that he was completely naked. Did this man have any shame?

"No, I won't let you just run off again." His face had lost its previous amusement and now looked frustrated.

"What? Draco Malfoy not used to hearing the word no?" She replied, her voice all sarcasm. He didn't budge as she tried to shove the bathroom door closed, while at the same time holding up her sheet. "This isn't a game, Malfoy! We can't do this anymore!"

"That's not what you said last night," he retorted stubbornly.

"I'm not going to be the other woman!" She cried in exasperation, letting go of the door completely. He then stumbled into the bathroom as she slid to the floor in a heap of sheets and limbs. He could hear her sigh frustratingly into her hands as he stared down at her.

Part of him wanted to tell her the truth, and the other part was pleased that she was jealous of Astoria. But seeing her this upset made him anxious to find a way to make it stop. "You're not the other woman…" he began awkwardly.

She acted like she didn't hear him. He sighed as he joined her on the floor, unsure about what he should do. He'd never been good at dealing with an upset witch. Hermione didn't fret for long though. As soon as her eyes lifted from the floor and she realized he was sitting beside her-completely naked—her face turned beet red, frustrations forgotten.

"Did you hear me? I said you're not the other woman," Draco repeated firmly, refusing to let her believe otherwise.

"What do you mean? Of course I am. Astoria..." Hermione looked unsure.

"Not if I had anything to do with it, I assure you," he responded nonchalantly, which astonished her.

"You mean, you don't love her?" Hermione asked quietly, looking unsure.

"Love?" he scoffed. "Absolutely not. She means nothing to me. She's no more than a ridiculous sham of a witch that my parents have deemed worthy of the Malfoy name."

She blinked at him, processing the information. "So this was arranged?"

"Yes, of course it was," he looked incredulous; like what she was saying was obvious. "Malfoys have had arranged marriages for ages. I always knew I'd have one as well," he continued eagerly at seeing that she looked a little less upset, but more troubled than ever.

"But why? It seems antiquated and barbaric.""

"Well, many reasons," he shrugged. She gave him an encouraging look, and he tried to think of something. "Power and money, for starters. Her father and my father have a lot of money, and if we join families than we can also assume that our power will increase as well. And her and I come from a similar background, with similar interests and beliefs. And of course-this goes without saying-but it's traditional."

"Is that it? What about love? What about happiness?" She questioned.

"It's not about love. It's about status in society and reputation."

"Do you hear yourself? Have you been brainwashed or something?"

"Yes, I suppose in a manner of speaking," he replied instantly. "Look, this is how I was raised. You may not understand, but it's the way of things."

A few moments passed and Hermione was silent—shocked that he had admitted it so easily, not really knowing how to feel now. She tried to gather her thoughts. So he acknowledged that it was an arranged marriage, but that didn't negate the fact that they were still getting married. She didn't know what she wanted from him, but she knew she couldn't be with him knowing he was married to someone else, even if he didn't love her. She would be setting herself up for heartache. Why couldn't she find a man who wasn't so complicated?

She stood up from the floor, letting her sheet stay where it was at her feet. She didn't look at him, but started to put her clothes back on as he stared up at her from the tile floor of the shabby bathroom.

Draco watched as Hermione slowly put her knickers back on. He couldn't let this happen. She was slipping through his fingers like the last time he had let her go. He wanted her, but he didn't know how to tell her. He'd never had to tell anyone before. Didn't she see that this was far from anything he'd ever had to deal with?

He stood up quickly, trapping her wrists between his fingers, halting her progress. She gave him a glare, wondering what he was doing. But before she could question him, his face changed into the lonely face she had glimpsed that night in the library. "Don't go," he ordered, but it sounded more like a plea in his ears. What had happened to him? He'd never had to beg a woman to stay before, and his ego was flaring up in protest, but he pushed it away. He knew Hermione wasn't like other girls; he couldn't simply treat her with distaste and use her body whenever he liked. Hermione required something in return. But he wasn't sure if he was willing to pay the price for what she asked.

"What do you want from me, Malfoy?" She demanded, looking pained.

"I…don't know," he said. "I've never done this before." His words had spoken volumes without having to actually explain himself, but he still felt like he needed to try. "You're not like anyone I've ever met before. Being with you makes me feel like I could be someone else. Someone who wasn't a Death Eater. Someone who isn't a Malfoy."

She looked at his forearm where the dark mark had been so many years ago. All that was left was a light scar, but she could see it plain as day. He needed her, she realized. But he couldn't say it. She needed to hear him say it. "Tell me what you want."

Several seconds ticked by and she wondered if he'd even answer her question. He looked distracted, looking over her shoulder with an unfocused look, and she could tell by his frown that he was having an internal battle. Finally, his mercurial eyes met hers.

"You," he breathed, and her heartbeat began to dance in her chest. She didn't know what to say; she was speechless when he was giving her that look. That beautiful look that promised pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. He slowly took steps towards her, causing her to back up until she was trapped between the blue speckled bathroom wall tiles and his solid chest. "I want you, Hermione."

Her lips fell open as she sucked in a breath. Within the span of a heartbeat he had her by the back of the head and was tentatively kissing her. He wasn't rushing like before. This time he was slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world, and he wanted to use it to learn every square inch of her body.

The little bit of clothes she had tried to put on was back off again, and she could feel the cold tile against her bare back as he pushed her up off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, never breaking the kiss, and his practiced hands slid down to cup her bottom, while molding himself into her.

Hermione moaned into his mouth, and he willed himself not to succumb to the pleasure yet. He wanted this time to be special. He wanted to show her how he felt about her by using his lips and hands and body. He wanted their lovemaking to show her how much he needed her, where his words had not.

He roughly thrust her against the wall and she dragged her nails against his back, opening his skin in spots. Pain mixed with the pleasure, a glorious indescribable feeling. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself already too far gone to turn back now. He shut his eyes so hard he saw stars bursting behind his eyelids, while he bit into her collarbone to keep from crying out in ecstasy.

A moment later they had both slid down the wall so that she was lying in his lap with her legs still twisted behind him. Neither of them could get a word out, but the hard breathing was enough to explain exactly how they both felt at the moment.

"I don't…want to marry…her," Draco mustered between deep breaths. She blinked at him, not quite sure what he meant, or where this conversation was going. Did she dare hope? "My father…won't give me…more money…poorer than…a Weasley."

She actually laughed then—not knowing where she'd found the energy—completely ignoring his jibe at the Weasleys. "So?" She asked. She could tell that he wasn't thrilled at the idea of having no money, and it made her smile. He was always such a vain person. If he were willing to give it all up and be as poor as a Weasley, then she'd probably lose the last shred of reluctance.

"So, will you still want me when I'm poor?" He asked slightly hesitant of her answer. She hugged him tightly, as tears leaked out from her eyes, taking in what he was insinuating.

"Yes, of course. Of course I will, you dithering idiot," she giggled into the crook of his neck. He even cocked a smirk at her laughter. She broke away to gaze into his gray eyes, gray eyes that were regarding her with a whole new attitude. She felt anticipation surge through her body then as she waited for him to take the next step.

"Let's do this," he nodded. "But where will I live? How will I get money?"

The sincerely confused look on his face made Hermione suppress a smile. "The way everyone else gets money: a job. And you can stay with me for now, I suppose," she blurted out the last part without thinking, but before she could figure it out, Draco was smiling at her again, and she couldn't help but smile back.

XXX

Draco had agreed to meet her at her flat after he took care of business regarding his new plans to leave his parents and fiancé. She wished him good luck, and then left him in his room at the Three Broomsticks, feeling a slight sense of apprehension. What had she just agreed to? This wasn't just a date; this was living together. Was she taking things too quickly? Was she even sure he would still want her tomorrow? Or in a month from now when he came to his senses?

As she made her way down the stairs, she could feel heat flush her cheeks. At that moment she felt like such a little tramp. Meeting an engaged man in a shabby inn to have immoral—but definitely wonderful—sex, made her almost dissaparate immediately so as not to allow anyone to see her make her walk of shame. But instead, she sucked up the last shred of courage she had, and began the trek across the pub towards the exit.

She barely made it four steps before someone caught her by the arm roughly. The last thing she remembered before darkness took over was the tugging feeling of apparition.

XXX

The former prince of Slytherin took two steps cautiously towards his father's drawing room where he could see a shred of light coming in from the bottom of the large double doors. He was about to begin the descent into dethroning himself, and disinheriting himself as well, so of course he had some doubts.

Hermione words from earlier came back to him, You don't have to do this, Draco. You don't owe them anything. Just go and pack your things and leave. He did owe them something though. They were his parents after all. Running away may have the same results, but it was without a doubt, the cowardly thing to do. And Draco was done being a coward when it came to his parents.

However, Draco wasn't a bloody Gryffindor who could simply run into a trap blindly. He was a Slytherin, and Slytherins would only run into traps if there were something to gain from it. Draco couldn't see anything he would gain by running into his father's drawing room and declaring himself no longer their puppet. So of course he was thinking of running.

First, he had spent his time in his bedroom suite, packing all of his valuables in case things didn't go as he planned, and he would have to run. Then he paced and thought of all the reasons he shouldn't do this. Coming up with a million and a half, he decided to stop the over-thinking and just do it. He'd figure it out afterwards.

After several hours of coming up with something to say when he got in there, he found himself knocking on the door without a single inkling of a plan. Just as he was about to run away, his father's baleful voice bid him enter.

Lucius Malfoy sat behind a very large and very old solid wood desk, dressed in his most expensive robes, looking supremely calm and collected. Draco stepped inside the room silently, his father never looking up from his parchment.

"I wondered when you would come back," his father began, sounding—for all intents and purposes—like he had expected this visit all along, and was annoyed that he had taken so long to show up. "Your mother will be thrilled."

"Father, I am only here to tell you that... I won't be marrying Astoria," Draco lazily drawled, hiding his apprehension behind a calm façade as his father had taught him.

His words made Lucius look up from his parchment, but he otherwise didn't seem surprised. "I see," was his only response.

"And…" Draco continued, his voice dying in the air as his father stared at him coolly.

"And you have found someone else, I presume?" His father surmised.

"Not exactly. You see, I won't be marrying anyone, father," he replied as evenly as he could, trying hard not to look at his father's face.

"Is that so?" He repeated in an amused tone. "So, you've come to disobey me, do I have the right of it? I always told your mother that some day you'd turn into a spoilt and defiant boy if she continued to allow it."

"I'm not a boy," Draco seethed. "I am an adult. A fact that you and mother refuse to acknowledge."

"Do you expect me to believe you're an adult when you act this way?" His father replied instantly, his tone hinted that he was close to losing his patience. "Running away from your duties is the epitome of childish behavior."

"I'm not here to argue with you, father. I only wished to inform you that I shall be leaving this evening, and that I will not be coming back." Draco was about to leave things like that, but his father had a look on his face that poker players got when they had an ace to play.

"And wherever will you be going, Draco?" Lucius asked rhetorically. "To the mudblood's house?"

Draco's blood froze in his veins. His father did indeed have an ace to play, it seemed. Before he allowed his words to penetrate his demeanor, Draco feigned ignorance. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, father. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have worn out my patience."

He heard his father remove his wand from his staff, and immediately brandished his own from his coat pocket, ready to defend himself if it came to it. He had definitely underestimated his father, but he wouldn't allow him to see his weakness—not yet. "You forget your place, boy," Lucius cooed. He began to step around his large desk, his eyes never leaving his sons, and his wand never dropping an inch. "You have obviously allowed such frivolous things as women to cloud your mind. Tell me, Draco, do you fancy yourself in love with the mudblood? Do you think she loves you back?"

He didn't dare answer his father's questions. He merely sat silently waiting for him to get whatever it was out of his system so he could tear out of here and make sure Hermione was all right. He wouldn't put it past his father to make sure she disappeared. "You see, witches like her don't deserve a backwards glance from wizards like us. A fact that you've obviously refused to acknowledge. There's not a single chance in hell that we would allow you to run off with the likes of Potter's whore."

Draco Malfoy had heard enough insults to last him a lifetime. It was time for answers. "What have you done to her?" He demanded.

"Done to her?" Lucius laughed. "I haven't done anything to her. If she's as smart as everyone says then I won't have to do anything to her, will I? There's no doubt in my mind that she's already come to her senses and realized you aren't worth the trouble. Just because a witch allows you between their legs doesn't mean that she loves you. You'd do better to accept it now. It simply cannot be."

Draco's gaze dropped to the floor. He wouldn't allow his father's words to change his mind. Hermione may not have said she loved him, but perhaps with time, who knew? She had told him to run away from his parents. She told him that she still wanted him, even though he would be disinherited. Surely that meant she wanted to see where things went?

Seeing his son's reluctance to acknowledge the truth, he took a letter from his pocket and threw it at his feet. "I apologize for reading your mail, but when I had thought that you had run off, I took to drastic measures to see where you were going."

Draco looked at the letter at his feet, recognizing the perfect handwriting as Hermione's, and didn't care if his father was watching intently. He tore the letter out of the envelope with his heart racing.

Malfoy,

Before it's too late, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry but any plans you had of coming to live with me when you leave the Manor must be taken back immediately. I wasn't myself when I agreed to such things, and now that I've thought about it, I can't help but feel like I've made a very brash mistake. Please forgive me, but I don't want to see you anymore. You're engaged and that's how it should be. We could never be together. You'd only figure out later that your parents were right and blame me for losing everything you've held so dear your entire life. I cannot live with such condemnation on my conscience, knowing that one day you'd realize I was nothing more than a passing fancy.

Hopefully you will understand,

H.G.

At first Draco wanted to believe that his father had written this letter himself to manipulate him, but her potent abnegation had effectively caused him to feel something he hadn't felt while he was with her: doubt. Just when he had hope firmly in his hand, fate had ripped it away in a span of a few quickly written sentences. As always, it was too good to be true.

He knew deep down she would change her mind after she thought it through. There was no place for a corrupted stain on society, such as him, in her life. He would only tarnish her unblemished reputation, and in the end, cause her unfathomable grief.

As his father stood across from him, looking rather smug, Draco vowed he'd never again let a woman wield so much power over him. He'd never again allow a woman's body to entice him from his rightful place at the head of the Malfoy table-where he belonged. He never had before, so why start now?

XXX

She had always known that the Malfoys were evil, but never had she experienced it first hand before from Narcissa. Narcissa always struck Hermione as the graceful matriarch that sat at home planning parties, and seeing to the social aspect of rich family life. She had been wrong.

The noble Mrs. Malfoy still had the ancient blood of Black running though her veins, and that entitled her to a bit of an evil streak, it seemed. After she had forcefully taken her from the Three Broomsticks, Hermione had learned that not all the remaining Blacks were like sweet Andromeda.

Two large wizards had bound her with a leg-lock curse and taken her wand. Several minutes later she was greeted with Narcissa's intimidating person as she sat frozen upon a chair.

The next two hours had been spent silently having to listen to Narcissa tell her all the reasons why her son would never love her, all the reasons why she should write that letter, and she was becoming angrier by the second. At first she hadn't wanted to do anything that this woman had asked her, simply because the fact that she had resulted to drastic measures undoubtedly proved just how scared the Lady Malfoy was that her son would actually run off with her.

But as time passed, she was unbound and free to walk away if she liked, but stayed to tell Narcissa exactly how she felt. "He's not a boy anymore. He has a mind of his own, and he's free to decide whom he wants to be with. If that person is me, then there's nothing you can do about it," she had indignantly replied.

Narcissa merely smirked at her, and immediately Hermione knew where Draco had gotten that evil smirk he sported all the time. "My dear, I have known my son a lot longer than you have. He cannot be left to make decisions on his own—especially about women. If it were up to him, he'd never marry and continue to have relationships with half the witches in London. What makes you so special is that stubborn little attitude you have. You and I both know that once he's over you, he'll be back to his old ways, and where will that leave you?"

"Don't patronize me. You and I both know that I wouldn't be here right now if you didn't feel threatened by me. But if you'd only allow him to choose who he wants, then you wouldn't be losing a son. Instead you cajole him into marriages, and blackmail him with his inheritance," she scoffed. "No wonder he wants to leave. His whole life's been mapped out since birth, never having a chance to be himself. Now he feels like his only choice is marry Astoria or leave his family behind forever."

"How dare you question things that don't concern you? Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? This is my family, and Draco is my only son. I will not have him run off with the likes of you," she spat the last sentence with venom, becoming flustered. "My son will tire of you as he's tired of every other woman he's been with. This may be the first time he feels like running away from his duties as heir, but I'm sure it won't be the last. There will be other women, even after he's married. You and I both know that to be true. Do you want to be in a marriage where you're not the only woman? I can't see you being brought up with the idea that adultery is ok, as Astoria has. She was bred to marry my son, not you."

Hermione had taken a few minutes to ponder what she was saying. Draco hadn't promised her anything. He only wished to leave Astoria, not be with her instead. But they would live together after he leaves the Manor. Certainly he wanted to be with her? But would she be ok with the fact that he would undeniably cheat on her as Ron had? No, she couldn't live like that; one man betraying her was enough for a lifetime.

"I can see you're a smart witch," Narcissa continued. "So you might as well hear the truth. Astoria is pregnant." Hermione frowned at the new turn of events. Did she dare believe it? "Draco doesn't even know it yet; she just came to me this morning to share the news. I didn't know what to say, how could Draco be so foolish?" Narcissa questioned rhetorically. She paced a few meters away from Hermione and then back again, looking distraught. "But none the less, it's true, and you wouldn't want to come between Draco and his child's mother, do you? What's done is done, Miss Granger, he can never be what you want him to be as long as Astoria is around. And she will be for a very long time, it seems."

Hermione looked at the floor deep in thought. On the one hand Narcissa's words had stung her to the point she wanted to run away and scream, and on the other she felt a slight sense of apprehension. Could any of this be true? Could Narcissa be untruthful in hopes of getting her out of the way? If not—and her instincts told her she appeared to be a woman in disbelief herself—then Hermione would be intruding on something as important as father and child. Could she be so selfish as to force Draco away from his own child's mother? No. Somewhere deep inside her-the part of her brain that rationalized things-told her that this was her way out of all this; she could choose to be rid of all this nonsense once and for all before things could get any further out of hand.

So she wrote the letter. That blasted letter that promised there would be no more heavenly nights spent in bed with the Slytherin Sex God. Promised that she'd be alone again. But being alone was better than being with someone that she couldn't trust to be with her monogamously after realizing he had a duty to her beyond just a barbaric tradition.

The two wizards had deposited Hermione in the alley across from her apartment building, and vanished a second later. She walked up the stairs lost in thought. So much had happened the past twenty-four hours, and her brain couldn't keep up.

For a moment there she had thought she had fallen for Malfoy. For a moment, she felt like her life was taking a turn for the better. All it took was a third-party observation—a mother's perspective—and it all came crashing down. She felt so stupid for allowing this to happen. So foolish that she let a man bring her to this again.

"Dear, Merlin, there you are!" Someone shouted when she had reached her floor. Her best friend Ginny was rushing down the hallway towards her. "Where in the bloody hell have you been, Mione? I've been here for an hour!"

Instant awareness pushed to the forefront of her brain. "Oh no, I'm sorry!"

"You had better have a good explanation," Ginny said in concernment. "I was so worried."

Hermiong paused, wondering if she should tell Ginny what happened. Ultimately, she knew she had to eventually. "Come inside, and I'll tell you all about it," Hermione unlocked her door, and let the redhead go in first.

"Everyone's waiting for us in Diagon Alley," Ginny informed her. "Why don't you tell me on the way?"

"Yes, of course, I'll just change clothes," Hermione said distractedly, and went to the bedroom, Ginny hot on her heels.

Ginny glanced around the bedroom, noticing the bed was made, "you didn't sleep here?" She surmised. Hermione's cheeks flared pink, and Ginny's eyes widened. "Malfoy?"

"Yes, but it's over," Hermione insisted. "I won't be seeing him again, I swear."

"Why? What did he do to you?" Ginny wondered as she sat on the edge of Hermione's bed.

"He didn't do anything. Things just got too serious, and I ended it," she answered while putting on a fresh jumper.

"Too serious? Merlin, did he propose? I thought it was just a bit of shagging," Ginny sounded confused.

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "It's my fault. I wanted too much from him, and he's too busy being engaged to give me anything more than whatever we had going on before."

"But, does that mean you wanted more?"

"I don't know what I wanted!" She declared, feeling all the anger at herself coming back. "I just…wanted him."

"But, he's engaged," Ginny pointed out as if Hermione had forgotten already.

"But he told me he didn't want her—that it was arranged by his parents," Hermione defended. "But it doesn't matter. I don't want him. He's a rake and a phony. I fell for his charm—I admit it—but like you said, Ginny, a dragon doesn't change his scales." She kept the news about the alleged pregnancy out of the story on purpose. It would be too hard to explain that to Ginny, and if she admitted it, she felt guilty and embarrassed for ever coming between Draco and his betrothed in the first place.

At Hermione's despondency, Ginny softened. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I wish it could have worked out, truly, I do." She nodded in understanding, and quickly changed the subject.

"Enough about me, today is your day! We're going to have so much fun dress shopping!" Just as quickly, Ginny had forgotten her situation, and was focused on the day's plans. They flooed to Diagon Alley, and walked to the little boutique that she bought all her formal gowns at. Ginny didn't feel inclined to talk about Malfoy anymore, to which Hermione silently thanked Merlin.

They arrived at Madam Farrington's boutique. Madam Farrington herself, was the best wedding dress designer in England. Some say she even designs dresses for the Queen, and Hermione wouldn't doubt it. Every witch in the London area would die for a gown designed by Madam Farrington, but only select few could arrange a consultation. Being that Ginny was the soon to be Mrs. Potter, there was no question that Madam Farrington would be designing the wedding dress of the century.

Mrs. Wealsey sat on a very white couch near the entrance, sipping tea from fine china looking very out of place, when they had arrived. The witch beside her nearly made Hermione growl in frustration. She squeezed Ginny's forearm rather painfully, and gave her an exasperated glare. Ginny returned her glare with a silent plea, and Hermione forced herself to smile as they approached the group.

She had no idea why Ginny had invited Lavender Brown to tag along, but whatever the reason, Hermione felt slightly betrayed. Mrs. Weasley got up to hug Hermione, and ask her a million questions. "I haven't seen you in ages, Hermione dear, have you been eating? You look so thin! How do you like working at the DMLE? Have they promoted you yet?" This went on for several seconds, before Madam Farrington greeted Ginny, and Mrs. Wealsey lost interest in her. Hermione pointedly ignored Lavender the entire time, instead greeting Luna Lovegood.

Once Madam Farrington had led Ginny away from her friends with Mrs. Weasley trotting beside them, Hermione struck up a conversation with Luna before things could become weird. "So, Luna, how are things going on your search for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"

"Not very good, I'm afraid. Haven't been able to uncover one yet, but we did come across several other species that haven't been discovered yet, which is pretty good," Luna explained in her usual dreamy voice. Hermione knew better than to encourage Luna about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but if it meant avoiding Lavender's contrite stares then so be it. She didn't have the patience to put up with the drama today. Not after what she had been through.

Ginny waved Hermione over before she could reply to Luna, and found herself slightly relieved. "I want your honest opinion since my mother has decided to tell Madam Farrington to make my dress look like something professor McGonagall would wear," Ginny said offhandedly as Hermione browsed the dresses along the racks.

"Yes, of course, but first I'd like an explanation as to why that no-good-lying slag was invited," She whispered furiously to her best friend once they were out of earshot.

Ginny glanced over at Lavender to make sure that she wasn't watching, "I'm sorry, but Ron and I had a row the other night because I wouldn't invite her today. I didn't want her to come, but mother and Ron insisted, and you know how they get," Ginny explained. "Please, for me, just ignore her. She won't talk to you; you know she's too afraid."

Hermione cocked a smile at her best friend. "Yes, I suppose she is rather scared of me. But she should be! She's the one who broke up a ten-year relationship. And her and I were dorm mates!"

"I know, but Ron's my brother, and I don't want to fight with him over this, so I let her come. Don't be mad," Ginny pleaded.

"All right, but forgive me if I'm not overly nice to her," Hermione smiled at the redhead to show her there was no hard feelings. They hugged, and Hermione took a look at the sketches Madam Farrington had drawn up for Ginny's consultation. "Ugh, you're right. Are those shoulder pads? What is this, nineteen eighty?"

"I know! Please help me, the dresses you get from here are always so pretty!" Ginny pointed out.

"Ok, do you remember my dress I wore to George and Angelina's wedding?" Hermione asked. "The green one with the lace for sleeves? Why not go with something like that, that way your mother is happy too."

"Oh, you're so smart! I love that idea. Here, let's tell Madam Farrington."

The rest of the consultation went smoothly, and after Madam Farrington had a general idea of what Ginny wanted, they decided to go to lunch.

On the way out of the boutique, they nearly ran into Madam Farrington's next appointment. Which—to Hermione's horror—was none other than Astoria Greengrass.

Astoria glared at their party, as she fluffed up her voluptuous blonde hair, and straightened her ugly dark green hat, which had a peacock feather in it. Narcissa stood at her side, smirking at Hermione in a knowing sort of way. She immediately felt like bolting down the cobbled path, but instead stubbornly stood her ground as the two snobby witches scrutinized them.

"I thought that Madam Farrington only designed dresses for the wealthy," Astoria innocently wondered while giving Ginny an insulting look. "Oh well, perhaps we should see about someone else designing it? I wouldn't want my wedding to be in any way connected to the filth she allows in here. Draco wouldn't mind, surely?"

Narcissa agreed, and they fluently strode from the boutique, their insults still fresh in everyone's mind. Mrs. Weasley had to hold Ginny by the arm so she wouldn't chase after them. Meanwhile, Hermione was in her own little world—which consisted primarily on Draco Malfoy.

Seeing Hermione's angry face, Ginny patted her shoulder, to console her. It didn't work.

XXX

There is something going on here lately, Astoria thought to herself as she ascended the stairs in the west wing of Malfoy Manor. She may be a welcomed guest at the Manor, but that didn't mean that anyone would tell her anything. So, she resorted to eaves dropping and snooping to obtain any information whatsoever. Which was enough to know something had happened, but what that something was—was beyond her.

It didn't matter anyways because her plan was working so far; she had succeeded in getting him to sleep with her, albeit reluctantly. And the Malfoys thought she had simply tried drugging him with a love potion! Ha! She wasn't that foolish. Well, let them think she had failed at brewing the correct potion. Let them all think she was a silly girl without anything in her pretty head. It would make things so much easier if they did.

It's true that she had failed at getting him into bed with her of his own volition, and the drugging was in fact a last-ditch attempt at getting him to do it. But she had to get him to, if only once, to make sure there was no question as to the paternity of her unborn child. When she had discovered the pregnancy, barely a fortnight ago, she knew she had to act fast before she was too far along. The Malfoys would send her packing had Draco not slept with her. There was no way she would be turned away now, and after they were married, even if they found out the baby wasn't his, their reputation would prevent anyone from being the wiser.

But Draco had been acting weird ever since the day she had gone wedding dress shopping. He had come back home finally, after spending several days away, and acted very unusual. She had expected after his temper tantrum he'd had after spending the night together, that he'd be livid mad, yet he was just distant and unfocused.

It wasn't odd for him to act like she wasn't standing right in front of him, but it was odd that he wasn't fighting it anymore. It's like he had given up and accepted that they were to wed. Astoria found herself wondering what could possibly lead Draco to act like a broken dog. She wondered if perhaps he had found out about the pregnancy? But no, Narcissa had said he wouldn't need to know right away. Whatever it was that triggered this capitulated behavior, she was pleased he had come around.

That meant that she could come up to his room, right? She thought so. And so she found herself standing in front of his bedroom suite, feeling more anxious than she had any reason to be. Would he throw her out? It was Christmas after all, and she thought that she ought to get more than a mere glance before he rushed off to bed earlier.

Everything was silent on the other side of the door, and Astoria wondered if he had left in the night. But no, he wouldn't. He hadn't left the Manor in days, as far as his house elf knew. She slipped open the door silently, and let herself in. The room was dark, aside from the lit fire, which had died down to nothing more than a dim orange glow, and the faint light from the full moon streaming in from his balcony.

She took a few cautious steps towards his bed, and found it completely empty. She frowned, and looked around for any sign of him. She heard him before she saw him.

"What do you want?" He asked not unkindly. She could tell by his voice that he was drunk. She smiled to herself at her luck as she stepped towards the chair in which he sat overlooking the Malfoy gardens. Next to him was an empty bottle of Ogden' finest, and a piece of parchment that looked like it had been crumpled up and opened many times.

"I just wanted to give you your Christmas gift," she replied, stopping close enough to see him more clearly. His hair was disheveled, and stuck out at odd angles. He only wore a plain white button down shirt—thoroughly wrinkled by now—with a loosened black tie, and matching black trousers. His shirt had been pushed up to his elbows, and Astoria could see the scar of the Dark mark plain as day, glistening in the moonlight. He looked like hell—if truth were told—but there was a dangerously sexy hint there as well, all his own.

He grunted quietly in response, not looking at her at all. Instead he looked at that piece of parchment on the table beside him, burning a hole in it with his glare. She walked a few feet closer, enough that she could touch him if she wanted to.

"What is it?" He finally asked when he took his gaze off that parchment, his gray eyes narrowing at her now. She didn't waste a single moment, but untied her robe, and let it fall onto the Persian rug silently.

He stared at her naked body unseeing, as if he was unimpressed. His eyes never leaving her chest for a solid minute. A moment later he leaned back in his chair, and uncrossed his legs. "You can put that back on," he demanded, and set to pouring himself another glass of firewhiskey, but half way through neglected the glass and instead drank whatever was left straight from the bottle itself.

She lowered herself onto her knees in front of him to capture his attention once more. He looked at her, but didn't say anything. She took that as encouragement, and went straight to unbuttoning his trousers. His hand immediately clamped onto her wrist to halt her. "Leave me."

She just frowned at him, not bothering to abide. "But—,"

"I said leave," Draco ground out, suddenly angry. This time she heeded his warning tone, and grabbed her robe, putting it back over her shoulders as she walked to the door. When she glanced back, she couldn't see him sitting in the chair anymore, and as she closed the door behind her, she wondered if he had even been there at all.

Oh yes, something was definitely going on. Draco didn't get drunk and sit in the dark for nothing. And what was that parchment he had been looking at with contempt? She had to get her hands on that parchment, and then she'd know. But being turned down like that was embarrassing. Her own fiancé didn't want her, and it left her feeling reckless as she wove through the darkened corridors. Suddenly she made a last-minute decision, walked through the first exit she found, and far enough away from the Malfoy's anti-apparrition barriers to vanish from the grounds entirely.

Astoria clenched the robe tightly around her waist as she walked up the familiar marble steps, and through the opened door. It seems he has been waiting for me again, Astoria thought with delight. She found him standing beside the lit fire in his drawing room, silently staring into it. She knew he wouldn't deny her as Draco had. His ego wouldn't allow it. She had been sharing his bed secretly for months now, unbeknownst to her psedo-fiance, and she had planned on stopping these little late-night visits once she was wed. But now, as she looked at his gorgeous unclothed back, she didn't know if she had the strength to stop.

"I thought you might not come. And especially on Christmas…" He began in a chiding tone.

"I was delayed," Astoria lied smoothly. She knew he hated hearing about Draco, but also craved it at the same time. "He watches me closely these days."

Blaise turned around to look at his guest sharply. "He doesn't deserve to look upon your beautiful body. Tell me you haven't shared his bed."

"I only do as I'm told," she gave him an encouraging smile, and let her robe slip to her waist. He thought of nothing else as a carnal smile took over his face.

"One day soon, you'll be mine. Then Malfoy can see what it's like to lose everything he holds dear." Astoria didn't bother telling Blaise that Draco couldn't care less if he lost her—in fact, he'd be doing him a favor if he did—but instead reveled in the idea that someone would fight for her. Someone knew her true worth, even if he was only doing it out of revenge. She knew that Blaise didn't stand a chance against the Malfoys, but it's Christmas after all, and she can pretend that someone loves her—at least for tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone! Sorry this took so long, and that it's a short chapter! I promise more to come when I have some more free time. Enjoy!**

The darkened dingy alleyway was known to all those who traversed Diagon Alley, though only a distinct few ever visited. Draco had found it many years ago as a boy, just as other reprobates of the wizarding world had—through felonious means.

He very rarely came to Knockturn Alley anymore; sensibly trying to partition his image from the one people associated with the illicit district. However, Draco realized there wasn't much he cared about these days, his image being one of them.

Let them talk. The community had shunned him no matter what he did. So why refrain from who he was any longer? His mother and Astoria couldn't keep him inside forever.

He sat silently in the corner of the tiny tavern, the candle-lit face of the avaricious witch across from him was barely recognizable anymore. She spoke to him but he heard nothing; felt nothing. He had lost count of the number of whiskeys he'd drank before she'd boldly come over to his table, seeking what every witch desired from someone as disreputable as him.

The way she bit her moistened lip as her dark eyes travelled from his chest to his eyes was mildly hinting to his muddled brain that she would be an easy lay if he felt so inclined. Draco had considered it for a moment, wondering if this dark-skinned exotic beauty would in any way help ease his turbulent mind. It sure as hell couldn't hurt, could it?

Her flat was small and in a shabby part of town. Combine that with the way she allowed such dismissive treatment from him and he knew immediately that she was after more than a night of hedonistic pleasure. For some reason the realization only angered Draco more. It's what they all wanted from him: his money. It always boiled down to the goddamned money. As if they would ever get anything from him aside from mental abuse and a one-night stand.

Unfortunately for the exotic witch—who at the moment was kneeling in front of him, her fingers expertly undoing his trousers—Draco felt unreasonably vindictive and particularly malevolent tonight. She'd tried to cry out when he fisted her hair, roughly pushing her head down further, but all that came out was a strangled moan.

Draco was drunk on power, feeling the need to dominate and punish her, almost as though she was the root of all of his problems. The muffled gagging continued as he selfishly took what he wanted from her without heeding the fingernails now clawing into his thighs in an attempt to push away from him.

All at once his muddled brain finally registered his actions and he immediately let her free. He looked at her through unseeing distressed eyes; wondering what had come over him. He dared not look at her any more as he gathered his belongings and left the flat without a word.

Seething—and feeling in no way better—he made his way down the dark street quickly, crunching the newly fallen snow beneath his boots, oblivious as to his direction or whereabouts, lost in his troubled thoughts.

Momentarily, he recognized that the area was too quiet to be London and he stopped abruptly on the sidewalk to take a look around. Nothing seemed familiar. Street lights cast a dull glow over the vacant street. There was not a soul in sight in either direction. Draco tried to pinpoint when he had ever been here before and what it was that had drawn him there in the first place. Upon apparating, he'd had no destination in mind, instead focusing on a feeling which is what he usually did when he wasn't sober enough to apparate from memory alone.

He took out his wand and scourgified his hands and crotch; suddenly feeling the need to wipe away any evidence of the foul encounter moments ago before he pondered his next course of action. The cracking reverberation of apparition took him by surprise and he whipped around, wand raised for battle.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ronald Weasley demanded, looking just as surprised; wand leveled menacingly at Draco s throat.

"Merlin, you're lucky I didn't curse you; sneaking up on me like that, Weaslbee," Draco sneered at the Auror standing before him. His drunken state alone keeping him from immediately casting an unforgivable the moment the other man had arrived, for no other reason but out of sheer instinct.

"Go ahead and try it, dick-brain. See how far it gets you," Ron fired back. Draco didn't back down an inch as the red-headed buffoon puffed up his chest. "Answer my question, Malfoy. What are you doing here?"

"None of your goddamned business!" Not that he knew where here was anyways.

"It's no business of yours to be standing in front of my ex-girlfriend's house in the middle of the night."

Draco unwillingly frowned in confusion. _Ex-girlfriend's house?_ He was immediately struck with the significance of what Weasley had just said. "What are _you_ doing outside of your ex-girlfriend's house in the middle of the night?" Ron's face became redder somehow as he ground his teeth together, though he didn't seem inclined to share either. "Come here to beg her to take you back?" Draco joked.

The scornful look Weasley gave him made him pause. "My God, Weaslebee, are you really?" A genuine laugh erupted before Draco could stifle it.

Ron growled and without warning barreled into Draco s shoulder, roughly pushing him back a few steps. Draco reacted on pure impulse, shoving him back with all the force he could muster, but Weasley was as solid as a brick wall. The Auror grabbed at his coat lapel and reared back with a fist, but Draco was quicker. He twisted his left arm out of his coat sleeve and fluidly used Weasley's grip on it to get out of the other sleeve and away from his attacker.

Once he was free, he lifted his wand and reduced the sidewalk beside Weasley to flying chunks of cement with a _Reducto_. Ron had darted away just in time to miss most of the debris, and immediately retaliated with an _Expelliarmus_ that Draco easily deflected.

One after another they traded curses and hexes at one another without effect when finally, the Auror decided an all-out street brawl would be more effective, either that or he'd grown impatient. He tried to bum rush Draco but a well-aimed _Cantis_ Jinx caused Ron to immediately stop and burst into song. Draco temporarily ceased fire to laugh at how hysterical it was; watching Ron belt out a terrible rendition of It s a small world after all .

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?"

Draco's head whipped around to see Hermione and Cormac McLaggen standing just a few meters away on the sidewalk. The former looked appalled, and the latter merely snickered at Wealsey's uncontrollable ballad just as Draco's lack of concentration cause it to end.

The distraction was all Ron needed; he chose that moment to sprint towards Draco and tackled him to the ground.

"Hey!" Hermione rushed over to the brawling men to see her ex-boyfriend trying to trap one of Draco's arms behind his back while simultaneously snatch his wand out of his other hand. "Stop it! Stop it right now!"

Seeing words were getting her nowhere, she instead raised her wand at the pair and used it to create an immensely powerful jet of water. The effect was instantaneous and exceptionally efficient. Draco and Ron were immediately separated, and instead sputtering and coughing as freezing water drenched over their heads in waves.

"Someone tell me what the hell is going on!" She shouted at them; wand lowered but still at the ready.

"_That_ blundering idiot attacked me, is what!" Draco insisted as he pushed his sodden fringe out of his eyes.

"He was the one sneaking around outside your flat!" Ron countered.

"I was not sneaking. I didn't even know she lived here!"

"_Sure_ you didn't," Ron mocked.

"Ok!" Hermione interrupted. "Ok, I don't care who was doing what. Neither of you have any reason to be here right now."

"What is _he_ doing here?" Ron scowled at Cormac.

"Yes, what is he doing here?" The now completely dry Draco queried.

"That's none of your business," Hermione's eyes rapidly shifted between the two men. "I suggest you both take your unwarranted jealousy and go back home to your significant others."

"I didn't even mean to be here in the first place. Purely coincidental." Draco argued.

Ron scoffed loudly in disbelief.

"I don't care!" Hermione snapped. "Just _go_." She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming on. Both men stared at her, one with abashed displeasure and the other aloof boredom.

"Hermione, can we talk for a moment?" Ron pleaded. "Alone?"

"What could we possibly have to talk about, Ronald?"

He hesitated for a moment; droplets of water ran down his face as he looked down at the pavement. He shivered slightly, crisp air breaching his wet clothes. Hermione didn't miss the resigned sigh he made. "You're right. I am jealous," he finally confessed, uncaring that others heard. "I can't stop thinking about you lately. Ever since that day in the coffee shop, I've wanted to apologize for how horrible I was."

Draco snickered. "Oh, this is rich."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron raged.

"Did you honestly think you could come apologize and she'd, what? Fall into your arms? You cheated on her with that slag Brown," Draco ridiculed.

"You're one to talk about cheating, Malfoy," Hermione rebuked before Ron could defend himself.

"I'm not the one here trying to get you back, am I?" Draco reminded her.

"I'm not trying to get her back either!" Ron attempted to insert into the conversation.

"Merlin, will you children give it a rest?" Cormac finally spoke up, cutting them both off. "She obviously doesn't want either of you."

Both Draco and Ron gave Cormac a lethal glare. "Butt out McLaggen!" Ron seethed.

"He's right," Hermione told them. "You and I can never be anything ever again, Ronald. I m sorry, but not after everything that happened. I appreciate your apology. Now go home." She shook her head wearily, thoroughly done with men in general.

Ron gave her one last remorseful look and then disapparated.

"I think I'm gonna go as well," Cormac told her. "You'll be all right?" He glanced warily in Draco's direction.

She didn't bother arguing, just nodded. "Yes, I'll be fine. Thank you, Cormac."

"You'll write, won't you?" Cormac gave her a cheeky smirk, already self-assured of her answer. She agreed and then he gave Draco look, as if to rub it in his face, and then followed Ron's vanishing act.

A moment later, Draco and Hermione stood alone on the sidewalk, the street light illuminating her as she righted the destruction they had made to the street. Draco knew she was vexed but wished he knew what was going through her mind. He didn't have to wait long.

"What are you really doing here?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I told you already. I apparated here without prior knowledge that you lived at this building."

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that you can apparate places you've never been before?"

"I never said that I have never been here before. Only that I didn't know you lived here," Draco took several steps closer to her, sounding cocky now that they were alone. "Why was McLaggen here?" He tried again.

"Don't try to change the subject," She chastised, backing away from his approach.

"Did you have a good date and thought you'd bring him back to your place?" He mocked as he continued to take slow steps towards her.

"Absolutely none of your business. Have you been drinking?"

"Granger, it's nearly midnight and I'm on a sidewalk Merlin knows where—of course I've been drinking."

The sigh that escaped her was a mixture of contempt and resigned acceptance. "Fine. Come upstairs. But only because it's freezing out here," she added as an afterthought.

"Yes, sure, fine," he agreed, trying to mask his smirk.

XXX

Hermione thought allowing Draco to come up to her flat would be a good way to get answers out of him, but now that he stood in her sitting room, she was starting to have doubts. What good could possibly come from allowing him into her home?

Draco attempted to break the awkward silence that ensued by picking up a book that Hermione had laying on the coffee table. "_The Power of Literature and Human Rights_. Sounds interesting."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched the book out of his hand. "It is." But she knew full well he was only mocking her.

He gave her an amused smirk. "I took you for a romance type."

She looked affronted, taking the bait. "Well I took you for a decent person. Looks like we're both wrong."

"I never pretended not to be the villain that I am, Granger, so that's on you."

"Pardon me for wanting to believe you'd changed."

"Easy there, Granger. Don't forget which one of us ran out on the other." Her eyes quickly glanced away from his and she looked guilty as she turned towards the kitchen. He followed right behind her. "Why did you, by the way? I dare say I deserve an explanation."

Hermione realized she couldn't avoid this forever. Now she really regretted letting him inside. What was she to tell him now? That his mother had kidnapped her and then forced her to write the letter? Even to herself it sounded like a ridiculous lie.

She'd ultimately made the decision, yet she wasn't ready to admit the truth out loud. The only thing to do was to try and convince him that she'd meant what she wrote.

Hand hovering over the tea kettle that had just begun to whistle, she sighed and then turned back to face him. "I thought it was pretty well spelled out in the letter."

Draco looked unconvinced. "Well I disagree. Walk me through it."

The fire crackling in the fireplace was the only noise heard as Hermione pondered what to say as she poured herself a cup of tea. Knowing that she wasn't the best liar, she decided to stick to mostly the truth. "There's not much to tell, Malfoy. After I left the Three Broomsticks, I realized it was all a mistake. That you'd only regret your decision to leave later and blame me."

"You couldn't possibly know what I would do."

"Even still, I couldn't let you do it," she chose to ignore his comment. "We would never work out; you must know that."

"I don't think that's why at all," he looked adamant. "I think maybe McLaggen has something to do with it."

"That's not it at all!" She flushed with indignation. "Purely a coincidence that I ran into him in Hogsmeade that afternoon. He is only in town for the holidays."

"The holidays are over, Granger, even I'm not _that_ drunk."

He was right, she knew. Lately she'd wondered why Cormac stuck around after he said he was going back to Australia after the New Year. She'd begun to suspect-earlier this evening, in fact-that he had intended to pursue a romantic relationship with her. Yet Hermione was not sure she was ready for that yet. Relationships were disastrous for her of late, and she hadn't yet come to terms with the uncontrollable feelings the man standing before her still evoked.

"Even if it did have something to do with Cormac, what would it matter? You're engaged. You're having a baby-" Hermione noticed her slip up too late. Now he would question how she knew that, and she wasn't about to tell him about his mother.

Draco paused, directing his eyes to meet hers; he gave her an incredulous frown. "What?" He demanded, his face changing from confusion to awareness then straight to fury. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what? That I knew about Astoria?"

"Astoria?" If it was possible, Draco seemed to get even more confused by her question. It almost seemed like he had no idea what she was talking about at all. Could it be that he had no idea? Or worse his mother had lied to her after all. "What are you talking about? Astoria isn't having a baby."

She hesitated, unsure as to how much she should tell him. If she told him his mother had told her, he would demand to know when. If she lied and pretended to have been misinformed, then he'd be oblivious to something that potentially had been purposely being kept from him-possibly for nefarious reasons. She doubted she could lie her way out of this anyways as she watched his expectant face slowly grow impatient.

An idea came to her. He didn't have to know _exactly_ when Narcissa told her about the pregnancy.

"I saw them-your mother and Astoria, that is-at Madam Farrington's before Christmas. They couldn't wait to tell me. Supposed they wanted to rub it in my face. Although, it could've been a lie..." She trailed off in a low unsure voice as she watched his face.

Draco became angry. She'd seen him angry plenty of times before, but this time it was pouring off him in violent waves. "That conniving, wretched..." He began mumbling incoherently as he strode out of the room. Hermione chased after him as he opened her front door and went out into the corridor.

"Wait!" She attempted to stop him, knowing he was about to apparate away without an explanation. "Where are you going?"

"There's something I need to take care of. This isn't over," he promised, looking straight into her confused eyes, and then he vanished with a pop.


End file.
